


A New Life in Lysos

by MR_Scott



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2020-06-25 19:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 34
Words: 60,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19751962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MR_Scott/pseuds/MR_Scott
Summary: A cold hearted Tyrion has been shipped to the Targaryen Queen across the Narrow Sea.  But Varys needs the kind and loving man he used to be, so sends for his wife Sansa, in the hopes that he will soften some in her company.  Sansa, having escaped Ramsey Bolton with Theon, has met up with Brienne of Tarth and is trying to stay alive.  A trip across the Narrow Sea sound perfect for her.  But life takes unexpected twists with Sansa's wolf dreams become dragon dreams, and Rhaegal claims Sansa as her mistress, starting a nightmarish journey that ends in new possibilities for them all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is based VERY loosely on the tv show (which I admit I've never seen, but I've read synopsis), in that Tyrion is with Daenerys, and Sansa has run away from the Bolton's with Theon. After that it's purely all my imagination. I realized while writing that the characters aren't as true to their book selves in this one, it's much more fanciful. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
> 
> M.R.

Varys waited patiently, hidden just behind the patio door, until the Queen and Lord Tyrion finished their business. Once the Queen left, he waited a few moments longer, pondering the small man before him. The death sentence – issued by his own father – had changed him. Or perhaps it was killing his father that had changed him. Either way, he was changed. Varys didn’t need a ruthless Lannister – neither did Westeros. He needed the politically savvy, yet caring and concerned man that Lord Tyrion used to be. The one that would share the Queen’s concern for her people, and act in their best interest. Varys had hoped that Tyrion would find a girl and come to care for her. It was his usual way. But so far, he’d shunned all of the lovely ladies that the Queen had made available to him.

“My friend,” Varys said softly, stepping into the sunshine, making sure to smile.

Tyrion didn’t turn to look at him, just poured more wine. “Varys.”

“There is news from Westeros,” Varys continued slowly. He needed to appear hesitant, and honestly, he was. He didn’t know if this would matter, but he didn’t know that it could make matters worse, so it was worth the try. “News that I thought might interest you. News of Lady Sansa.”

At her name, Tyrion’s brow raised slightly. “She’s managed to stay alive then,” he said, raising his already half empty cup to his lips again. “Good for her.”

“That depends on your perspective,” Varys said sadly. “Lady Sansa left King’s Landing the night of the King’s murder in the company of Lord Baelish.” Tyrion turned, surprised. “It is not certain if she went willingly, or was abducted.”

“Hmmm,” he said finally. “Baelish was a friend to her mother.”

“Yes, he and the Tully sister’s grew up together. It was one of the reasons he used to convince the Queen Regent that he should be allowed to marry Lady Arryn, that she was familiar with him and would trust him, and he could convince her to listen to reason.”

“And he took Sansa with him,” Tyrion said musingly. “It would make sense. Lysa Arryn is her aunt, and would protect her. And once Sansa had a bounty on her head, she would need someone to keep her safe.”

“Unfortunately, Lady Arryn – pardon me, Lady Baelish - is dead. Her minstrel pushed her through the Moon Door, apparently because he was in love with her and was furious that she’d not only married Lord Baelish but that she actually dared to love him.”

“And what of Sansa?” Tyrion asked, with a small frown.

“Apparently, Lord Baelish has taken her to Winterfell.” 

Tyrion sighed, and raised his cup again. “It’s where she wanted to be,” he said quietly, his gaze returning to the view of the city before him.

“Apparently not, as she’s run away,” Varys said.

Tyrion frowned in full, turning to face him again. “She’s run away? From Winterfell?”

“Yes, my lord. After the King’s murder, once you and Lady Sansa stood accused, she of course lost her right to Winterfell. The Queen Regent gave it to Roose Bolton. He and his family have taken up residence. He planned to wed Lady Sansa to his natural son, Ramsey, whom the Queen Regent has graciously legitimized.” He hesitated. “It is said that the boy enjoys pain, both the giving and receiving of it. One thing is certain,” Varys said grimly. “The night of their wedding, all of Winterfell heard her screams, and she could not leave her bed for days afterwards. Once she was able to move, she disappeared. The Boltons are saying she’s dead, but the North is extremely loyal to the Starks, and it is certain that she is being hidden somewhere.”

Tyrion silently contemplated the view before him, his thoughts inwards. Eastward, to be precise. Sansa was a child, a sweet child who’d been pampered and loved and spoiled her entire life, until her father made the mistake of becoming the Hand of the King, and bringing his daughters to King’s Landing. She had no idea of how to survive, she needed someone to take care of her. That had been his job, as her husband. She wouldn’t know who to trust – hence, her involvement with Petyr Baelish – or what to do. If he left her there she’d die, if she hadn’t already. He wondered if he really cared anymore. She’d never been particularly devoted as a wife, or even very interested. She hadn’t made able to see past her grief to acknowledge him as a person, and when she did start to see through the haze, all she saw was another Lannister. Of course, she had every legitimate right to grieve, after everything she’d been through. And all because Cercei decided that she wanted to rule, instead of acknowledging that Robert had named Ned Stark as Regent. Her entire family slaughtered – her father right before her eyes. Joffery’s mistreatment of her, her mother and brothers murders – it had all left her in a haze of grief. And then, Cercei had forced her to marry him, as a punishment for them both. Of course, there was no real reason to punish him, was there. It was all because Cercei blamed him for their mother’s death. Because Cercei blamed him for being a dwarf, as if he’d had any say in the matter. Because Cercei was an arrogant, imbecilic bitch who deserved to die more than anyone else. Her death was the only thing Tyrion was actually looking forward to. He was hoping the queen would let one of her dragons eat her. Of course, the poor dragon would probably get indigestion – Cercei wasn’t known to be agreeable – but the thing would most certainly live.

Varys was pleased to see the cold fury that settled upon the little man. “Varys, my friend,” Lord Tyrion said softly. “Would you kindly find my lady wife, and have her sent to me?”

“Of course, my lord,” Varys bowed and left quietly, a small smile on his face. Yes, this could work out very well.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa took a deep breath, glad to be off of the horse. Using the long stick Lady Breinne had given her, she poked at the fire, pushing the sticks around until the fire crackled cheerfully.  


“Here we are,” Pod said with a grin. Using the makeshift spit he’d made of green branches, he gently set the fish above the fire.  


“Careful,” Lady Brienne warned from her place near the horses. “Fish wasn’t meant to cook on a spit. It’s not heavy enough.”  


Pod nodded. “I’ll watch it closely,” he promised.  


Nearby, Theon sat on a log, shivering slightly. “Theon, come warm yourself by the fire,” Sansa said, trying to hide the reluctance from her voice. Even in the cold, his stench was terrible. But he shook his head.  


“No, I’m fine,” he mumbled.  


Soon they’d all eaten fish and some winter apples that Theon had found somewhere, and were simply sitting quietly. Sansa was trying to be grateful, despite her discomfort and cold. Theon didn’t have to help her escape, and Lady Brienne certainly didn’t have to keep a promise she’d made to a dead woman, especially after Sansa had already so rudely told her to leave. And Podrick….he didn’t have to do anything. He’d said that Tyrion had told him to get out of King’s Landing, but he certainly didn’t have to help get her to safety – if there was such a thing. Lady Brienne had said that they were heading towards White Harbor, reasoning that in the larger city they at least wouldn’t have to worry about food and shelter. Sansa tried not to think too hard about her situation, but there was nothing else to think about. She had nowhere to go. No family, no money, and a bounty on her head. She couldn’t go back to the Vale, her Aunt Lysa was dead – and she wasn’t sure she’d go back even if she was alive – and Lord Baelish was the one who’d taken her to Winterfell. Of course, he’d told her that if she didn’t want to go they could turn around and go back to the Vale, but she wasn’t sure that offer was still available. And even less sure she wanted to take it.  


Brienne’s voice broke into the silence. “Pod, come around to this side of the fire,” she said quietly. “Sit next to Lady Sansa.”  


Pod looked up, surprised, then moved quickly to Sansa’s side.  


“What is it?” Sansa asked quietly, fear churning in her stomach. She knew Theon was terrified, too. They would both rather die than go back to Ramsey Bolton.  


“An animal,” Brienne said. “A large one. It’s been tracking us most of the day, but it’s been steadily moving closer the last few minutes. There, do you see its eyes?” She gestured towards the trees and suddenly Sansa saw them, shining gold in the firelight.  


“What is it?” Pod asked.  


“A wolf, I think,” Brienne answered, pulling her sword and rising slowly. “But I’ve never seen one this large.” Pod pulled his sword as well, swallowing hard. He’d only been training with it for a little over two months, he was hardly an expert.  


The animal crept silently into the clearing, slowly, its eyes fixed on Sansa. It was taller and longer than any wolf she’d seen before, it’s coat a thick gray with white flecks on its hind legs. It stopped, then sat.  


Brienne and Pod looked at it in startled confusion, but Sansa stared with growing recognition. “Nymeria?” she whispered. The direwolf stood, its long tail swinging slightly.  


“Oh my goodness,” Sansa said with a small smile. Rising she moved towards her and dropped to her knees. “Look at how big you’ve gotten!” The wolf licked gently at her face as Sansa stroked her thick fur.  


“You know this thing,” Brienne said, making it a statement.  


“It’s a direwolf,” Theon said quietly. “All five of the Stark children had one. That one belonged to Lady Arya.”  


“I hadn’t heard of any wolves in this area,” Brienne said. “Certainly if someone had seen this monster they would have spread the word.”  


“She isn’t a monster,” Sansa said sharply. “No more than an excessively tall woman wearing armor and using a sword is.” Brienne pressed her lips together tightly, but nodded once.  


“How did you all come to have direwolves?” Podrick asked. “I thought they had all died out centuries ago.”  


Sansa shrugged. “Father and Robb came home with them one day, and said there was one for each of us. Mother was strongly opposed to them,” she smiled. “But Father convinced her somehow. Theon knows,” she said, looking over to him. “He was there when they were found.”  


Theon nodded, his gaze sliding to the ground. “The bitch had died, choked on a stag’s antler,” he said. “There were six pups. Lord Stark said there hadn’t been a direwolf this far south in years.”  


“Six pups,” Sansa said. “One for each of us, including my natural brother, Jon.”   


“Where is yours?” Podrick asked curiously.  


Sansa straightened, returning to her place before the fire, Nymeria on her heels. Brienne stepped back as the wolf passed her, and even Pod moved over some. “Cercei had her killed. Nymeria attacked Joffery, because Joffery attacked Arya. Arya knew the queen would be angry, so she drove Nymeria away, throwing rocks and sticks at her until she left. But since Nymeria wasn’t there, she killed my Lady instead, even though she hadn’t even been there, and she hadn’t done anything. My father killed her himself, and Lady was so brave, she stood still and let him.” Sansa’s voice shook. Cercei had taken everything away from her – her family, her wolf, her friends. Even the one person who had been kind to her – Tyrion. Although she was sure there had been some motive behind his kindness, he was a Lannister, after all. But when she thought back on her time at King’s Landing, it seemed that Tyrion was the one who consistently rescued and cared for her. And now even he was gone, dead by Cercei’s decree, because she believed he’d killed Joffery.   



	3. Chapter 3

The wolf stayed next to Sansa as they settled down to sleep, her head resting on her massive paws. Brienne took the first watch, as usual, so that Pod could sleep awhile. Soon he and Theon were both snoring softly. Brienne sat a small distance away, lost in her thoughts, occasionally poking the fire or adding a few more branches from the stack next to her. Sansa couldn’t sleep, although she was warmer than usual with Nymeria’s big body pressed against her. Suddenly, Nymeria lifted her head, looking around inquisitively. Breinne looked over, watching the wolf suspiciously. But Sansa knew what was happening. She remembered. And she’d been waiting.

“Arya,” she whispered. Nymeria turned instantly to look at her, then whimpered a bit, leaning over to lick Sansa’s cheek. Sansa’s eyes filled unexpectedly. “Arya, are you alright?”

The wolf nodded lopsidedly, issuing a series of low growls and whimpers.

Sansa smiled. “Shhhh, you don’t have a voice, I don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispered. The wolf responded by laying her massive head on top of Sansa’s. “I’m just glad you’re alright,” Sansa said brokenly, her tears beginning to fall. “Just be alright. Take care of yourself. We’re on our way to White Harbor, but I don’t know how long I’ll stay there. Cercei has given Winterfell to the Bolton’s.” Nymeria growled deep in her throat. “I know, I hate it too,” Sansa said in a rush. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, I’m just trying to stay alive. Brienne told me she’d seen you, that you’re learning how to use your sword. I’m glad, I know that’s what you always wanted. Just be safe,” she whispered.  


“My Lady,” Brienne called hesitantly. “Are you… _talking_ to the wolf?”

“Yes,” Sansa said, as Nymeria growled softly, her golden gaze on Brienne. After a few moments, she lay down again, her head resting against Sansa’s cheek. Finally, Sansa dozed off.

When she awoke, Nymeria was gone. She sat up, looking around. “She left a little while ago,” Pod said softly, so as not to wake Brienne or Theon. He pointed towards the woods. “She got up, stretched, and went that way.”

They traveled silently for most of the day. “Have you seen any sign of Nymeria following us?” Sansa asked Brienne, late in the day.

Brienne nodded. “I think so,” she said. “I’m surprised she hasn’t made an appearance yet.”

But when they stopped to make camp that night, Nymeria reappeared, walking up to Brienne and dropping a small rabbit at her feet, then loping away, only to return an hour later with another. She came over to Sansa, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, blood on her face. Sansa leaned away, frowning. “Don’t lick me!” she said sharply. “You’ve blood all over your mouth.” Nymeria sat, her expression stricken, and Sansa leaned over and rubbed her thick fur. “Thank you, Nymeria, we do appreciate it. You’re such a good girl. Now please, go bathe.” Nymeria growled. “You are so like Arya,” she said exasperatedly. “Water is not your enemy! Go clean yourself up! Go!” she pointed to a nearby creek and Nymeria growled again, but slunk away towards the water. In only a few moments they could hear her splashing.

“You sound like Lady Stark,” Theon said quietly.

“Except instead of talking to Arya, I’m talking to a wolf.” Sansa said in frustration. Pod and Brienne both grinned, and even Theon smiled a bit.

It was weeks before they reached White Harbor, and Nymeria stayed with them for most of the journey, bringing meat almost every night. But as they began to near the city, Sansa awoke in the middle of the night to see Nymeria watching her intently. “Arya?” she whispered. Nymeria didn’t respond. She lifted her head, looking up towards the moon. “It’s time for you to go,” Sansa said, understanding suddenly. “It’s alright,” she said, as Nymeria turned to face her again. “I’ll be alright. We’re almost to the city.”

In the morning, Nymeria was gone. “We’re getting too close to the city,” Brienne said when Sansa told them of her belief that she wouldn’t return. “It’s one thing for her to be with us out in the woods, but she would stand out in the city. Although her hunting has been a gift, it’s probably for the best.”

Two days later, Brienne sent Pod into the city to rent a room with most of the last money they had. Once night had fallen, they bundled Sansa up in her heavy cloak and took her there. It was nice to be in a bed again – the room had two and Pod and Theon insisted on letting the ladies have them both – and a real fireplace, and fresh wash water every day. The first few day, Theon requested a bath every day, and they didn’t complain, just got him the water and the tub. Pod had to use their last money to buy him new clothes, as the stench wouldn’t come out of the old ones. Sansa had Brienne get her a needle and thread and she mended their damaged clothing, while Pod quickly found work assisting a shop keeper. His ability to read and write proved useful, as well as his quick intellect, and soon he’d been offered a position with a wealthy merchant, at almost double the salary.

“Lord Tyrion told me early on that he couldn’t teach me to be a knight, but he could teach me to think,” he grinned. He recommended Theon to take his place at the shop.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Theon mumbled uncertainly.

“You are _Lord_ Theon Greyjoy, heir to Lord Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands,” Sansa said firmly. “You are more than capable of working in a shop. My parents taught you to be responsible, hardworking, and reliable. You can do this.”

Theon looked to the floor, trying to beat down his panic. “Lord Theon Greyjoy, heir of Lord Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands,” he whispered. It had been so long since he’d spoken his name aloud, he’d almost forgotten it. Of course, that had been Ramsay’s intention. He swallowed hard. He was Ironborn. He could work in a shop. He nodded, and a few days later, began work.


	4. Chapter 4

Brienne was hesitant to leave Sansa alone during the day, and so worked around the establishment they rented from, working in the stables and other odds and ends. Sansa was able to earn a bit of money doing some mending, although she never left their rooms. Brienne told everyone that her sister was sickly and often needed rest, but that she could sew from her bed. And because her work was of good quality, Brienne regularly brought her more work, especially from the unmarried men who had no one to do their darning for them. Even Pod brought her a few pieces.

In the evenings, Brienne and Pod often visited local bars, listening to the local gossip. “You have many supporters here, my lady,” Pod told her. “There are plenty who say they would hide you if you needed.”

“Of course, whether they’d do it is different,” Brienne said wryly. “But there are many verbal supporters. But there is one man,” she said slowly. “We’ve seen him often, always asking about the daughters of Lord Stark. I’m beginning to think he’s looking for you.”

Pod nodded in agreement. “I’m beginning to think so too. Whenever there’s a discussion of you, or your father, he seems to be there.”

“Do we know who he is?” Sansa asked nervously.

Brienne shook her head. “I’m thinking it’s time we talk to him,” she said grimly. “To find out what he’s looking for. It could be that he’s just a supporter, someone who’s willing to do more than talk, but….I doubt it. He’s up to something.”

“It’s been four months since we left Winterfell,” Theon said quietly. “It could be one of Lord Bolton’s men.”

Brienne nodded. “And if he is….well, we have to keep Lady Sansa hidden. And you as well, most likely.” Brienne’s voice was grim. “If he finds you, you’ll lead him straight to us.”

“Would he know Theon without his beard? And his hair is lighter,” Sansa said. One of the first things Theon had done was shave off his beard. And once he’d begun washing his hair regularly, it had returned to its natural chestnut brown, instead of looking black.

Brienne shrugged. “I don’t know if anyone would connect Reek to Theon Greyjoy to Petyr Barrows,” she said. “But I also don’t know if I want to find out.”

For weeks they waited, nervously. But the man seemed to have disappeared, they didn’t see him. And then one night he was back, talking about Lord Stark and his family, and if anyone thought the Bolton’s would keep Winterfell or if the capricious Queen Regent would gift it to someone else. 

“You’re very interested in the Starks,” Brienne asked him with a smile, as she bought him a cup of ale. “I knew Lady Stark, she was a friend.”

He looked at her skeptically, in her plain clothes, the edges of her pants hem smeared with dirt and muck from helping in the stables that afternoon. Beside her Podrick was almost as tall, although better dressed. “Really,” he said wryly.

Brienne smiled. “You obviously didn’t know her.”

“No,” he admitted. “I didn’t. I had the pleasure to meet Lord Eddard, and the older boys, Lord Robb and Jon Snow. But I never met Lady Catelyn, or their younger children.”

“I’m the opposite,” Brienne smiled. “I met Lady Catelyn and the girls, but never Lord Eddard or the boys.”

“And you?” he asked Podrick.

“I met Lord Stark a few times,” he said, taking a gulp of his ale. 

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like for the older girl, to watch her father be killed,” he shook his head sadly.

  
Brienne nodded sadly. “I can’t imagine,” she said sorrowfully. “I’ve never known my father, but still…to see that…..right in front of her….” She shook her head again.  


“Really?” he asked, skeptical again. “You never knew your father? I find that interesting, Lady Brienne.”  


Brienne looked blank, and Pod grinned. “You’re not the first fellow to call her by that name,” he said.  


Brienne finally smiled, as if in understanding. “I’m no lady,” she said. “Jeyne Rivers,” she extended her hand, and her companion automatically took it. “And my companion here is Robert Rivers. And your name, friend?”  


“I’d have pegged him for Poderick Payne,” he said. “Lord Tyrion Lannister’s squire. And I am called Alston.”  


They both stared blankly at him. “Well that’s a new one,” Brienne grinned. “A Payne, huh Rob? Any relation to the infamous Ser Ilyen?”   


Pod laughed. “I don’t know that I’d want to be related to him.”  


“I’ve been sent to find the Lady Sansa,” Alston said quietly, leaning forward. “There’s safety for her across the sea.”  


“Why are you telling us?” Pod asked curiously. “We told you, we aren’t who you think.”  


“Of course you are,” he said dismissively. “Even if you don’t have the girl, surely you’ve seen or heard something of her? Her husband is searching desperately for her.”  


Brienne’s face could have been carved of stone. “That’s a dangerous thing to say around here, friend.” She gestured to the crown of men laughing around them. “A lot of loyal Stark supporters in this room, and not a lot of love for the Bolton’s.”  


“No, her real husband,” he whispered. “Lord Lannister.” They both stared at him.  


“Are you saying Lord Tyrion is alive?” Pod whispered, leaning forward.  


“Yes, he’s in Meereen, serving as Hand to the Targaryen Queen. And he wants his wife.”  


“I may have heard a whisper of her,” Brienne said slowly. “As we’ve said, you’re not the first to mistake me for Brienne of Tarth.”

“Are you truly not Lady Brienne?” Alston said, looking slightly uncomfortable for the first time.   


Brienne smiled, but it was Pod who spoke. “No, she’s not,” he said. “I’ve known her all of my life. She’s Jeyne Rivers.”  


“Plain Jeyne,” Brienne said lightly. “I feel a bit sorry for this lady if she truly looks like me.” 

“You look exactly like her,” Alston said skeptically. “You could be twins. Perhaps you should check in Tarth for your father.”

Brienne smiled, raising a brow. “Perhaps I should.” He left not long after that, although Pod and Brienne stayed, laughing and playing a game with some of the other men. It was late when they made their way back to their room, and Theon and Sansa were already asleep.

In the morning, Brienne stopped Pod from discussing it with a shake of her head. The men left for work while Sansa and Brienne broke their fast. Once she was certain they were gone, Brienne spoke.

“My lady, we heard something very interesting last night,” she began. Sansa looked up in interest. “We met a man who calls himself Alston. He said that he’s been sent here by Tyrion Lannister to find you.”

Sansa blinked in surprise.

Brienne nodded. “He said that Lord Tyrion is in Meereen, acting as Hand to the Targaryen Queen. And he is desperately trying to find you.”

“He just told you this?” Sansa asked skeptically.

“No, he’s the man we talked about a few weeks ago, the man who’s been inquiring about your family quite a bit. I spoke to him, I told him I’d been a friend of your mother’s. He recognized both Pod and I, and called us both by name. We of course denied that, but he was so certain that we were who he thought we were that he asked us for help in locating you.”

Sansa hesitated. “Do you believe him?” she asked.

Brienne shrugged. “He could be someone else, one of Bolton’s men, hoping to flush you out. But there is no great love for the Lannisters in this land, so why that name? If he had said that he was one of your brother’s supporters, perhaps. It’s been said that House Umber and House Flint would gladly take you in, and most of the smaller houses as well. If he’d used one of those names, it would make sense. But most would think that you were thrilled to be away from Lord Lannister, and back amongst those who love you here in the North. So for him to say Lord Lannister leads me to believe that he is who he says.”

Sansa thought about that. “What does he want?”

“To meet with someone. He thinks I’ve heard whispers of your whereabouts.”

“And you’re thinking to actually bring me?”

Brienne shook her head. “No, my lady. It’s too dangerous for you to be out and about. But I admit I’m interested in what he has to say. If Lord Tyrion really is alive and sending for you…..it may be your best option.”

Sansa hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “He could be who he says, but why would Tyrion look for me? Ours was hardly a love match, and I can’t believe that he wouldn’t be happy to be rid of me, especially since I’m no longer heir to Winterfell. It makes no sense that he would send a man to search for me.”

Brienne shrugged. “I’d like to hear him out. Perhaps we can have Theon meet with him.”

“Perhaps we should,” Sansa said. “I think I’d like to hear what he has to say, as well.” She knew that she couldn’t stay hidden inside the room forever, and their eventual next move was never far from her mind. She was deeply grateful that Lady Brienne and Pod were committed to helping her, but she couldn’t expect them to continue this charade forever.


	5. Chapter 5

A few days later Brienne arranged for Theon to meet with Alston in a private room in the building where they were staying. She didn’t want Sansa to come, but Sansa was tempted to go just to get out of the room. The few times she’d gone out it had been after dark, and she’d tied a black rag around her hair to cover it, and kept the hood of her cloak pulled up. She was trying to be grateful that she had people to help her, and that they weren’t outside anymore, but staring at the same four walls was driving her mad. She needed someone to protect her, someone more one powerful than Lady Brienne.

After much discussion, she went. Sansa sat behind the dressing screen while Theon nervously sat at the table in front of the fire. Soon, there was a knock on the door, and Theon let them in.

Alston surveyed the room as Brienne closed the door behind them. Theon returned to the table, sitting, and gesturing for Alston to do the same. “Wine?” Theon asked. Brienne was pleased to see that although his voice was quiet, Theon appeared calm and comfortable.

“Yes, thank you,” Alston said slowly. He glanced over his shoulder, where Pod and Brienne stood, their backs to the door.

“You’ve been inquiring about Lady Sansa,” Theon said. He handed Alston a cup, looking him in the eye.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m hoping to find her. I’m sure Jeyne told you that her husband – her true husband – is looking for her. He’s asked me to locate her and send her to him.”

“Tell me, Alston,” Theon said, taking a sip of his wine. “Why should I trust you?”

Behind the screen, Sansa smiled. Although his voice was still quiet, he sounded more like the Theon she’d grown up with.

“I have a message for her, from her lord husband. When I give it to her, she’ll know that I am who I say I am.”

“You’ll have to give that message to me,” Theon said.

Alston shook his head. “I’ll give it to the lady herself.”

Theon smiled. Brienne realized with a start that she’d never seen the boy smile before. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

“My good man,” Theon said quietly. “Jeyne doesn’t wear that sword for decoration. If you plan to leave this room alive, you’ll need to give me the message. Although I will not deliver it personally, I will ensure that it gets to the lady. If she is convinced, then I will be in touch with you. If not, you may expect a visit from Jeyne. And her sword.”

No. Brienne definitely didn’t like the smile, or the smug and arrogant demeanor that accompanied it.

“My lord,” Alston said. “I realize that I have put you in an uncomfortable predicament. But I may have said too much already. If you do not have the lady, I need to speak to the one who does.”

“Pity,” Theon said, taking a sip of wine while gesturing to Brienne. She began to move forward.

“Wait,” Alston said, clearly reconsidering. “The message is, Pentos wasn’t impressive, but the dragons are everything I’d hoped.”

They all frowned, all except Sansa, who sighed silently. “That’s all?” Brienne said. “Anyone could say that.”

“But anyone wouldn’t know of his want to visit Pentos, or his childhood fascination with dragons,” Sansa said, stepping from behind the screen. “He didn’t share that information with many, for fear of being mocked. Only Jamie and I know that. And Ser Jamie wouldn’t have sent him.”

Alston bowed. “Lady Lannister, it is a pleasure,” he said, clearly relieved.

“Tell me, Alston,” Sansa asked. “Why is it that Lord Tyrion is sending for me?”

He stared at her, clearly unsure of how to answer. “My lady,” he said eventually. “I was only told to find you and bring you to him. That was all.”

Sighing again, Sansa nodded.

“So what is your plan, then,” Brienne asked.

“There is a ship that will depart for Meereen in two days,” Alston said. “I would like for Lady Lannister and I to be on it.”

“We’ll all be on it,” Brienne said firmly. “She goes nowhere without us.” 

Alston nodded. “I’ll see to the reservations,” he said. “Will you need anything, my lady?” he asked Sansa.

“If she does, I’ll take care of it,” Brienne said firmly. “Rob?” she said to Pod. He opened the door, and gestured for Alston to leave. Alston nodded, glancing again to Sansa, then walked out, followed by Pod.

“Are you comfortable with this?” Brienne asked her.

“I am, actually,” Sansa said. “And I think it might be for the best. There’s nowhere here that I could truly be safe. Perhaps Meereen is my best option.”

“Well then. I supposed we’re going to Meereen.” Brienne wasn’t displeased by the thought. It might be nice to visit the land across the Narrow Sea. And while Brienne would continue to be her close guard, it would be nice to have men to help share the lady’s security with.

They returned to their room, preparing for bed. They sat up, waiting for Pod to return. “Your silence feels different,” Sansa said to Theon.

He sat on his blanket, hugging his knees, looking thoughtful. “I don’t think I’ll go with you,” he said softly.

Brienne looked up sharply. “Why not?” she asked.

He shrugged, obviously struggling to find the words to explain himself. “It doesn’t feel like the right place for me,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Brienne answered. “But we’re not leaving you here. So you’ll have to make the best of it.”

“Brienne, if Theon wants to stay in White Harbor, that’s his choice to make.” Sansa’s voice was firm, but Brienne’s was firmer.

“No, it isn’t.” She looked at Theon, sorrow on her face. “I cannot leave you here, because Ramsay Bolton broke you.” At the name, Theon visibly flinched. “If he finds you, not only will he literally torture you to death, but you will tell him everything – where we’ve been, who’s helped us, where we are, who we’re with. You would expose not only Lady Sansa, but Lord Tyrion and the Targaryen Queen, besides. I’m sorry,” she said again. “I know it is a hurtful thing to hear. But you aren’t strong enough emotionally to stand up to Bolton, or anyone else, frankly. And so I cannot take the chance of leaving you here. You’re going.”

Sansa wanted to argue and protest, but she couldn’t refute a single thing Brienne had said. Theon was growing stronger the longer he was away from Ramsay, but he was still emotionally fragile. He struggled to look people in the eye, and he flinched away from any touch. He had no self-confidence, and had become obsessive about bathing. He ate little, rarely slept, and when he did he suffered from horrendous nightmare – she did too.

“Perhaps the time away from Westeros will be good for us all,” Sansa said quietly. By the time Pod returned, she had gone to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

She knocked tentatively on the door, and heard a gruff, ‘enter.’  
  
“You can wait here,” she said to Brienne. “Tyrion won’t hurt me.” Brienne nodded, although her reluctance showed on her face.  
  
Sansa walked slowly through the spacious room, her eyes searching for his small frame. “I’m on the balcony,” he called. She went through the open door and stepped into the sunlight, the city spread out before her, the ocean beyond. “Hello, Tyrion,” she said with a small smile.  
  
“Sansa,” he said, a bit of surprise in his voice. He’d obviously been expecting someone else. “You’ve arrived.”  
  
“Yes, finally,” she said, moving towards him.  
  
“The boat ride from Westeros is excruciatingly long,” he commented, pouring her a cup of wine as she sat near him.  
  
“Yes, it was,” she agreed, taking the cup.  
  
“I’ve heard things haven’t been easy for you,” he said conversationally.  
  
“No, I suppose they haven’t,” she replied, taking a sip of the cool wine. “But they haven’t been pleasant for you either.”  
  
His smile – if it could be called that – was grim. “No.” They sat silently for a long moment, each staring at the view before them. “So tell me,” he said. “How did you come to leave King’s Landing? Varys wasn’t certain if you’d been abducted or you’d gone willingly.”  
  
“I suppose it was a bit of both,” she said slowly. “Before you and I married, Ser Dontos and I had been talking about getting me away from King’s Landing,” she began.  
  
“Dontos?” His surprise was obvious. “That fool?”  
  
“That’s exactly why Lord Petyr chose him,” she said sadly. “Because everyone thought him a fool, and no one would pay attention to his comings and goings.”   
  
Tyrion nodded thoughtfully.   
  
She took another sip of wine. Suddenly, she was nervous. Silly. Tyrion wouldn’t hurt her. Even if she had left him there to face his family alone after Jeoffery’s murder, knowing that he’d been falsely accused.  
  
“So you were planning to leave,” he remarked. “I must admit, I’m not surprised.”  
  
Sansa nodded. “But the night before Joffery and Margeary’s wedding, I told Ser Dontos that I wasn’t going. I couldn’t leave you there to face Cercei and Joffery alone, not to mention your father. You had been so kind to me, and so…..I changed my mind. But Ser Dontos said it was too late, everything was all arranged, I had to go. Then, after Joffery died, he came and got me, pulled me outside. I was in such a shock, I didn’t protest at first. By the time we reached the ship I said I couldn’t go, I had to go back, I couldn’t leave you there to face everything all alone. That’s when Lord Petyr told me.” She hesitated, taking another sip of wine. “I don’t know if you recall, but I wore a jeweled hairnet to the wedding.”  
  
“I recall everything,” he said, pouring himself more wine. “You’d said it was a gift.”  
  
“It was,” she nodded. “From Lord Petyr via Ser Dontos, who told me I had to wear it to the wedding. Even after I’d said I didn’t want to leave King’s Landing he was still insistent that I wear it, he said that Lord Baelish was expecting me to. I didn’t see the harm in it. You may also remember that before the feast, Lady Olenna Tyrell complimented me on it, but said my hair had come loose. She adjusted it for me.” Tyrion’s eyes narrowed. “And later, you mentioned that one of the stones had fallen out.”  
  
Tyrion swore. “They used you.”  
  
Sansa nodded. “One of the ‘stones’ was a dried version of a poison called The Strangler. Lady Olenna took it from the hairnet and then put it in the wine when she was certain Margeary wouldn’t be drinking it. And so when I reached Lord Petyr and told him that I no longer wanted to go, he told me that I couldn’t stay because although you were innocent, I was not. I had assisted in Joffery’s murder by bringing the poison to the feast. No one would believe I was innocent, not after everything he’d done to me. And even if by some miracle Cercei and your father did believe me, they’d still execute me because I assisted in the murder of the king. He’d thought that I would be pleased to have had a part in killing him.”  
  
Tyrion nodded. “And neither cared who got blamed for the murder.”  
  
“Oh no,” Sansa said hurriedly. “It was always intended that you would take the blame. Who do you think brought those dwarves with the pig and the dog all the way across the Narrow Sea as entertainment? Lord Petyr knew that Joffery would have had too much wine, and that once he saw the dwarves show he would immediately pick on you. That’s when Lady Olenna was to put the poison in the wine. So that when he died, everyone would immediately look to you. Their plan was that you and I would be blamed, but of course, I wouldn’t be there. You would be executed for the crime of killing the king, but eventually the Gold Cloaks would discover that it hadn’t been Lord Tyrion and Lady Sansa after all. You would be dead - more’s the pity of course, but no one would cry over you except the whores, perhaps – but my name would be cleared and my birthright restored. I would already be safely ensconced in Winterfell, where I thought I wanted to be. Lord Bolton would have the loyalty and devotion of the North, with their direwolf princess safely within his grasp, and Lord Petyr would have Lord Bolton’s support, and his banner men, of course, in whatever it is he’s planning.”  
  
Tyrion nodded slowly. His life had no value, apparently even to those outside of his family. He waited for the familiar wave of sadness and hurt but it didn’t come. A cold, hard, anger sat in its place, a swirl of blackness that seemed to engulf more of him every day. “But you have changed the plan by running away from Winterfell,” he remarked.  
  
Sansa sipped from her wine, then again. “Some prizes are not worth the pain of the game,” she said quietly. “He would have killed me, eventually. Once I’d borne a child or two or three. He wouldn’t need me anymore, and he was going to kill me.”  
  
“He told you that?”  
  
Sansa shook her head. “No, others told me. His mother hinted at it, and a few of the serving girls who’d been there under father whispered it to me. They brought me moon tea unbidden, to ensure that I’d stay alive.”  
  
Tyrion nodded again. “Well, you’re safe here, for the moment. I suggest you find a way to make yourself useful,” he said briskly. “Should the Queen decide that she doesn’t need us, death would be the easy option. There’s nowhere else for us to go.”  
  
Sansa nodded. “Do you have any recommendations? About my usefulness?”  
  
“I do, actually. Be her friend. She’s never had a true friend her own age, not a nobly born woman. Giggle with her. Gossip. She needs that.”  
  
Sansa nodded. “Anything else?”  
  
“Yes.” He turned to face her fully, and she was startled by how stern and hard he looked. The resemblance to Lord Tywin was eerily striking. “Figure out what you want. Because one day, this war will be over. One way, or another.”  
  
She nodded again, her eyes on his face. “And what is it that you want?”  
  
He stared at her, his expression grim. “To be left alone,” he said finally. Rising, he walked away, taking the jug of wine with him.


	7. Chapter 7

The dark skinned girl called Messandei smiled, and gestured for Sansa to follow her. They walked a short distance down a hall and entering a large room, furnished in delicate creams and golds. Sheer gold sheets hung from the ceiling, creating private seating areas filled with thick couches and chairs, and pillows.  
  
They found the Queen standing next to a large window, watching the city beneath her. She turned at their approach, and smiled as Sansa dropped into a low curtsey. “Rise, Lady Lannister,” she said warmly. “Welcome to Meereen.”  
  
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Sansa said with an answering smile. “And thank you for allowing me a safe haven here.” The Queen was stunningly beautiful, with pale gold hair, deep purple eyes, and the fine bone structure the Targaryen’s were known for.  
  
“Safe for the moment,” she answered lightly. “I hope the trip was not too difficult. According to Tyrion it’s dreadful.”  
  
“Well, it is rather long,” Sansa admitted. “And our cabin was rather small. I’m glad to have my feet back on the ground.”   
  
“Have you broken your fast yet?” the Queen asked, gesturing to a small table filled with food and set for two.  
  
“No, not yet,” Sansa said, and they seated themselves and allowed Messandei to serve them. They chatted about Meereen and Sansa told the Queen about King’s Landing and the Vale and Winterfell, and the Queen told her about her time with the Dothraki. They talked for over an hour, sharing experiences and laughing, until Tyrion interrupted them.  
  
“Well, this is a lovely sight,” he said with a slight smile that seemed forced to Sansa.   
  
“Her Grace and I have been getting to know each other,” Sansa said with a smile, laying her hand lightly on his arm. He didn’t move, but she felt the muscles tense beneath her fingers.  
  
“Lady Sansa has been telling me about the North,” the Queen said with a smile. “I can’t imagine a land where it’s always winter.”  
  
“It is beautiful, in its own way,” Tyrion said. “I’m a child of the western Summerlands, so I find it uncomfortably cold.”  
  
“And I find the heat uncomfortable,” Sansa said with a smile. “Although I’m learning to enjoy it. I found the weather in King’s Landing to be quite enjoyable. And the gardens there were lovely.”  
  
“Yes, you did enjoy them,” he said dismissively. “Your Majesty, I need to go over a few things with you. And I believe Grey Worm is also waiting to speak with you.”  
  
Although she was stung slightly by Tyrions tone, Sansa smiled as she rose. “I won’t keep you any further, Your Grace. Thank you for your time.”  
  
“I hope we can talk again soon,” the Queen said hopefully.  
  
Sansa curtseyed slightly. “I am at your service, Your Grace,” she said before turning to leave.  
  
Dani eyed Tyrion, who had climbed into the chair that Sansa had vacated. “She is lovely.”  
  
He nodded. “She was a beautiful child, and has grown into a stunning young woman. She’s a very sweet girl. I’d thought that you would like her.”  
  
“You don’t care for her?”  
  
Tyrion’s brows raised. “I didn’t say that.”  
  
“But you don’t,” the Queen said. “Why not? She is, as you said, a very sweet girl. And she’s certainly beautiful.”  
  
Tyrion paused. He’d believed once that he and Sansa could be close, perhaps even come to love each other. But that was before. Before Joffery’s death, before he’d been charged with murder, before Shea had betrayed him. Before Lord Tywin had sentenced him to death. Before. “We were only married a short time before we were separated,” he said. “We’ve both changed.”  
  
The Queen looked at him sadly. She’d come to be fond of the small man, and had hoped that having his wife with him would bring him some joy. “Perhaps, in time, you’ll come to care for each other.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Tyrion replied, before turning the subject to the matters at hand.


	8. Chapter 8

Sansa and Brienne stood on her balcony, a tray of fruit and juice on a small table near them. “It’s certainly busy,” Brienne said, as they looked at the crowd of people in the streets below them. “But we’ve been told not to go down there.”  
  
Sansa nodded. A small part of her wanted to go explore the sights and sounds of Meereen. She’d heard stories, but she’d never dreamed she’d actually cross the Narrow Sea and be here. Turning from the rail, she wandered back into her room, where it was a little cooler. Brienne stayed on the balcony, enjoying the warmth, saying it reminded her of her home on Tarth.  
  
She was confused by Tyrion’s demeanor. He’d always been warm and kind. She knew that a lot had happened since their marriage – to both of them – but she hadn’t expected him to have changed so much. In her mind, she’d come to think that he would welcome her back to him with a warm reception, and to treat her kindly after everything she’d been through.  
  
A knock at the door had the pretty, brown haired Meereenese girl the queen had given her hurrying to the door. Sansa stood and smiled when the Queen herself came in. “Your Grace, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. What a pleasant surprise.”  
  
The Queen plopped down onto the couch where Sansa had been sitting in a swirl of pale pink fabric. “I’m bored,” she announced. Behind her, Messandei giggled, and the Queen glared at her, although the corner of her lips twitched. “I have much to do, but I don’t want to do any of it.”

Sansa smiled. “Well, what would you like to do instead?” she asked, sitting.

“Talk to you,” the Queen answered promptly. “Tell me about Tyrion. How did you come to marry him?”

Sansa smiled sadly. “I was a hostage in King’s Landing,” she said. “My father had been executed for being a traitor to King Robert, my mother and brother murdered in the ensuing war – that the crown wasn’t winning, so they resorted to treachery to kill them – my sister had disappeared to gods only knew where, and my younger brothers executed by a boy we grew up with, or so we thought. I’ve since found out that wasn’t true, but we’ve no idea of where they are.” The queen stared at her in horror. “I was – or thought I was – the last living child of Lord Eddard Stark, and as such, heir to Winterfell. Somehow, it was decided that I would be married to Tyrion, most likely to ensure the Lannister’s would have a claim to Winterfell, because once my mother and brother were killed, they didn’t need me anymore. I was so distraught, still grieving my father and mother and brother’s deaths…” she shook her head. “Tyrion was very kind to me. I was horrible – I’d barely speak to him, I didn’t want anything to do with him. And still, he was kind. He tried to talk to me, and to take care of me, and he would hold my hand when we walked. He tried to protect me from Joffery.”

“Joffery? That was the boy king, the one who was poisoned at his own wedding?” the Queen asked.

Sansa nodded. “He was a monster,” she said bitterly. “I’d originally come to King’s Landing as his betrothed but once my father was branded a traitor, it wasn’t appropriate for us to marry. So he set me aside and married Margeary instead. But he would tell me that he was king and he could have any woman he wanted, including me, and that he would never let me leave King’s Landing, that I would have to be his bedslave. Even when I was to marry Tyrion, he said that because he was king, he could have Tyrion bring me to him and make him watch us. Tyrion did his best to protect me from him. And eventually, I started to come out of my grief and realize that he wasn’t like Cercei or Joffery or even his father, Lord Tywin. But by then it was time for the wedding and….it was all over.”

The Queen smiled sadly. “I’ve been told that Tyrion used to be a kind and caring man. But now….I’m told he’s changed.”

Sansa nodded. “He reminds me of his father. It has been said that Lord Tywin was always stern, but that after his wife died giving birth to Tyrion that he was totally changed. Hard, and unforgiving. Uncaring about his youngest son, whom he blamed for killing his wife. And that Tyrion is a dwarf was unforgivable in his father’s sight.”

“I had hoped, when Lord Varys told me that you were coming, that your presence might soothe him a bit,” the Queen said. “Tyrion told me when he first arrived here that he’d given up on life, until Varys convinced him that I could make it worth living again. He seems a good man and I must admit, I hate seeing him this unhappy.”

Sansa wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Your Grace, we were together for a very short time before we were separated. And in that time, I was deeply in the midst of grieving….we barely know one another.”

“Then perhaps it’s time you get to know your husband,” the Queen said lightly. “Lady Sansa, he needs someone to care for him. Who better than his wife? I’m sure the thought of a home, children, a family….it will give him something to live for again. And isn’t that what you want, as well?”

“Well yes, of course, Your Grace,” she said slowly. But she hadn’t thought about having those things with Tyrion. He was a Lannister. And all she wanted was to be able to have Winterfell again. She wanted to marry and have children there, to raise her children in her home, and fill those walls with the sounds of laughter and happiness again.

“Well then, perhaps you should spend some time with him,” the Queen said, rising. “I suppose I must go attend to my duties,” she sighed. “But Lady Sansa, please think of what I’ve said. Tyrion needs you. And I think,” she leaned her head to the side and stared at Sansa. “I think you need him as well. You’ve both been through such horrible things. You could both use someone to cling to, someone to love. Don’t discount love, Lady Sansa. If I could have my Moon and Stars back, I would give all of this up without a further thought,” she said wistfully. “You have another chance. Don’t waste it.”

Sansa frowned as the Queen left the room. Another chance. With Tyrion? She wasn’t sure she wanted one. She was grateful to him – not only for his kindness when they married, but for sending for her now – but she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

“Well you don’t have much of a choice, do you,” Brienne said when she mentioned it. “You’re already married.”

“But we never consummated it,” Sansa said. “So we could ask the Queen to set it aside, if we wanted.”

“How did you manage that?” Brienne asked in surprise. 

Sansa shrugged. “He agreed to wait until I was ready.”

“Why?” Brienne frowned. 

Sansa shrugged again. “I don’t know. But he did.”

“Let me make sure I understand,” Brienne said slowly. “You’ve found a husband who won’t bed you until you’re ready, who treats you well, who is the richest man in all of Westeros, and advisor to the Queen. And you don’t want him?”

“He’s a Lannister,” Sansa said firmly.

“So? He’s not his father, or his sister, or even his brother, and Ser Jamie is a better man than most. Who cares what his name is? Did he cut your mother’s throat himself? Was he the one who sewed your brother’s wolf’s head on his neck? Was he the one who ordered your father executed? Was he even there? Did he even know about it?” Brienne shook her head. “I realize that much of your misery has come at the expense of the Lannisters, but you must judge people by their own actions, my lady. How did you feel when King Joffery tried you for your brother’s crimes?”

“That was different,” Sansa said stubbornly.

“No, it was not,” Brienne said firmly. “He punished you for things you had absolutely no involvement in, which is exactly what you are doing to Lord Tyrion right now. So unless you have more reason than the fact that his name is Lannister, perhaps you should give the man a chance. By your own words, he’s been good to you.”

Sansa thought about what Brienne said, more than she wanted to. She knew that she hadn’t been a good wife. Had she ever thought about his feelings? She knew the answer was no. In her defense, she’d been dealing with quite a bit the last few years. But then, so had he.

She’d always assumed that when she married she would be the lady to a powerful Lord. Her father would have arranged a good marriage for her. He _had_ arranged a good marriage, the best possible. It wasn’t his fault that Joffery was a monster. The Lannister’s were an old and well-respected family, and Wardens of the West. Tyrion would be a very powerful man once the Queen took the throne. And Sansa had no doubt that she would, Cersei was no match for her. She could do worse in a husband. Lord Tyrell had told her that, she remembered. That she could do worse. And she knew it was true. 

Tyrion was a Lannister, but he was hated by Cercei and his father. She couldn’t imagine what it had been like for him to grow up with people who didn’t care about him. Her own childhood had been so full of love and laughter and joy – but that hadn’t been his experience. Cercei had told her that her brother suffered from the affliction of needing to be loved. But didn’t everyone need love, she wondered. Even Cercei. The love of her children, and her brother – especially her brother, if the rumors were true. Was there something so wrong with searching for someone to love?

****

All of which led her to the most important question of all; was she prepared to remain Lady Lannister?


	9. Chapter 9

It was days before she saw Tyrion again, and even then it was brief. He had no interest in her, outside of ensuring that she was comfortable and had everything she wanted. He was cold and distant, and Sansa had no idea of how to change that.

“Spend time with him,” the Queen suggested.

“Talk to him,” Brienne said.

But how? The weeks passed without much contact with him, although she saw the Queen almost daily. Even Pod said he barely spoke to him anymore. Finally, she invited him to join her for dinner. She bathed and scented her skin with the oils and creams, and allowed her girl to braid and curl her hair. 

“You look beautiful,” Brienne said with a smile. Theon nodded, smiling as well. Although he hadn’t wanted to come, the trip had done wonders for him. He was finally relaxing and opening up some.

She had the food set on a table on the balcony, where they could overlook the ocean. Then she stood nervously, waiting. He arrived soon after, looking at the food and her appearance coldly. He sat when she invited him to, and ate without comment. She tried to ask him of his impressions of Meereen, and his journey in Pentos, and even how his day had gone. He replied in one word monosyllables, if he replied at all – her questions about Pentos got her a cold stare and nothing more. Finally she gave up, sitting silently while he ate. As she looked out over the ocean, her mouth dropped open. A huge black dragon flew across the edges of the city, its wings beating steadily. She watched it until it was out of sight. Thoughts of the Queen flickered across her mind, and the mild thought that she was hungry. She frowned. That was odd.

“Impressive, isn’t he,” Tyrion said around a mouthful of food.

She glanced at him. “Yes,” she said. “Very much so. Aren’t there three of them?”

He nodded. “She has two of them locked up, the people are afraid of them. But she hasn’t been able to capture that one.”

Sansa looked again in the direction the dragon had flown, silently thanking the creature for getting Tyrion to talk. “I didn’t realize they were so…..big.”

Tyrion grunted. “That one is the largest of them. The other two are smaller. A bit.”

Sansa thought about that as Tyrion studied her. “What was this for?” he asked, wiping his mouth.

Sansa looked at him in surprise. “There was no particular reason,” she said softly.

“No grand announcement? Nothing you need to discuss? Do you need more clothes? You want to go into the city? Any other requests?” He seemed angry.

Sansa shook her head. “No,” she said. “I just…..I never see you. I thought it would be nice to share a meal and talk.”

“About what?”

“Nothing in particular,” she replied with a small frown. “Why are you behaving as if I’ve done something wrong? Is it that uncommon for a wife to want to share a meal with her husband occasionally?”

He slid out of his seat awkwardly, draining his cup. “If you want to be my wife, you should start by spreading your legs,” he said rudely. “Other than that, you’re just another responsibility that I don’t want.” He started to walk away.

Sansa’s mouth dropped. “Then why did you send for me?” she asked, stung.

“Because you didn’t ask for this any more than I did,” he said, pausing to look back at her. “Cercei did this to both of us, and I intend to make her pay in blood and tears. At least here I know you’re safe, so that when this is over you can restart your life as best you can. So welcome to Meereen. Enjoy the sunshine. Rest. Wear pretty clothes and jewels at my expense. Laugh with the Queen, be her friend. One day, this will all be over and we can each go on our way.”

“How do you propose we do that?” she asked as he started to walk away. “We’re married, Tyrion, or have you forgotten? We can’t just go our separate ways.”

“Obviously you forgot when you married Ramsay Bolton,” he said cruelly.

“I didn’t forget, I was told you were dead,” she said hotly. “Why are you behaving like this?”

“My apologies that no one told you I’ve changed.” He turned to walk away once again.

“I thought you were better than them,” she said bitterly. “You were always different. But now you’re no better than Cercei and your father. Just another Lannister.”

He froze for a moment, then turned to look at her. “If I were ‘just another Lannister’ you would be dead by now,” he said quietly. “Because you are of no use to me whatsoever. The fact that I am not like them is the only thing keeping you alive.”

Sansa ignored him, standing and going to the rail to look out over the ocean. Second chances, she thought bitterly. She’d known she didn’t want a chance with him. So what should she do? Staying in Meereen was still her safest option. She’d talk to Brienne in the morning. She had to have some kind of plan for her future. And she’d have to release Brienne, eventually. She couldn’t expect her to keep this promise forever. But she had to admit that she was disappointed. When she’d given it some thought she’d realized that there were many things worse than being married to Tyrion – being married to Ramsay, for instance. Lord Tyrell had told her that at her wedding feast, that she could do worse in a husband. And as Brienne had pointed out, he was understanding, good to her, rich and powerful. After everything his family had done to him, she would have thought he would jump at the chance to have someone actually care about him. Perhaps Cercei hadn’t been right after all. Tyrion obviously didn’t want anyone to love him. But his behavior still puzzled her. Why was he being so cruel?

Tyrion stared at her back, his stomach churning in….he didn’t know what. Anger? Fear? Hurt? Rejection? Why did he care what she thought? If she’d wanted to be his wife she should have thought of that before she’d left him. Even though she’d had a legitimately good reason not only to grieve but to leave. His family had destroyed everything she’d ever loved, just like they’d done to him. Cercei and his father had done everything they could to destroy him, up to and including sentencing him to be executed for a crime they knew he didn’t commit. They’d done their best to destroy him, and they’d succeeded. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about his own life, or anyone else’s. Not this beautiful young woman who was his wife, and needed his protection. Not the Queen who needed his help. Not the country that he could save. He didn’t care. He _wouldn’t_ care.

Sansa jumped in shock and spun around when she heard the dishes crash to the ground, and took a step back when she saw Tyrion standing next to the table, murder in his eyes. “Damn you,” he ground out. “Damn you to all seven hells.” He didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to get hurt again. And that, he knew, was the truth of it. He didn’t want to be hurt again, he couldn’t. He couldn’t live through that again. Shae had destroyed him. He’d loved her and she’d betrayed him, turning on him not only in court, but then bedding his father. His _father_. Tywin Lannister, who’d tormented him his entire life. He may have been able to forgive her if it had been anyone else, but not Lord Tywin, not after everything he’d done, things that Shae knew about. And yet she’d turned on him – after he’d done his best to protect her – and betrayed him with his own father. His worst enemy.

Sansa didn’t know what to say. He stood there, glaring at her, his chest heaving. She didn’t know what she’d done wrong. He turned his head, but not before she saw the glint of tears in his eyes. He walked away from her, stopping at the far rail, his back to her, and leaned his head against the rail. She took a step towards him, careful to avoid the spilled food, stopping behind him. Was he crying? She wasn’t sure. Hesitantly, she put her hands on his shoulders, then deciding suddenly, she dropped to her knees behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his. His hands gripped hers tightly, as if to push them away but she tightened her grip and refused to allow him to. She didn’t know what was wrong, she couldn’t fix it, but after all of the kindness he’d shown to her – especially when she’d been so horrible to him – the least she could do was hold him while he cried. She didn’t know what else to do for him.

They stayed that way for a long time, as the sun set. Finally he sniffed, wiping his face with his sleeve. He reached for her hands again, gently this time, and she released him. He stood there only a moment longer before turning and walking away, never looking at her. Sansa watched him go, uncertain of what if anything she should say. She rose and took a step to follow him but by then he had crossed the length of the room and was closing the door behind himself.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day he had a huge bouquet of brightly colored flowers delivered to her. The day after, a necklace arrived, made of bright blue stones the same shade as her eyes. The day after that a box of lemon flavored candies. Every day, she received something from him, but she didn’t see him.

“He seems to be very sad,” Pod told her.

“It’s good,” the Queen said. “He needs to grieve whatever it was that hurt him, so that he can move on.”

“At least he’s thinking of you,” Brienne said practically. 

Sansa didn’t know what to do. He obviously still didn’t want to talk to her, and after the fiasco of a dinner she was hesitant to invite him again. She and Brienne talked about other options, but she really didn’t have any. “You could learn a skill and get a position somewhere,” Brienne suggested. “You could be a companion, or a child’s instructor.” But Sansa didn’t want to do either. She’d never thought about having to support herself, she’d expected to marry and be responsible for the managing of her husband’s home.

She asked Messandei to get her some material and began working on a shirt for Tyrion. Every time she’d seen him, it appeared he was wearing children’s clothes. He needed somethings that were appropriate for a man of his station. The queen was fascinated.

“I never learned any of the womanly arts,” she said wistfully one afternoon as they chatted on the balcony while Sansa sewed.

“I don’t know that you missed out on much,” Sansa laughed. “Many women find it tedious, but I enjoy it. And it’s a very practical skill to have. As Queen, you need other skills. Things I would have no idea of how to do.”

“I have too many things to do,” the Queen said, rising to look over the city. “I can’t keep track. Just this morning I realized that the dragons hadn’t been fed in over a week. They’ll starve to death. I’m not used to having to be responsible for them, when they’re out they feed themselves.”

“How long have you had them in there?” Sansa asked quietly.

“Too long,” the queen said morosely. “I need to release them but everyone is so afraid of them.”

“Perhaps you should assign someone to take care of them,” Sansa suggested.

“I’ve tried, but no one wants to do it, they’re all afraid of them.”

“Well, they are rather terrifying up close,” Sansa admitted. “Even though the black one is beautiful from a distance.”

“Do you think so?” the Queen asked with a smile.

“Oh, he is,” Sansa agreed. “He’s very impressive.”

“You should see the other two. They’re equally as beautiful.”

“I’m sure they are. I’d never imagined I would see dragons in my lifetime,” Sansa said with a smile. 

The Queen studied her for a moment. “Sansa, will you take charge of the dragons for me?”

Sansa was so startled by the question that she stuck herself with her sewing needle. “Me?” she asked on a squeak.

“Just ensure that they’re fed, and that someone cleans their area,” the Queen said in a rush, coming to sit next to her again. “And if you time the cleaning right, they won’t bother the person. Wait until about an hour after they’ve eaten. And even if they’re awake, they’ve never harmed the cleaning person if they come in around that time. Please, Sansa? It would be a great help to me. If you’re doing it, I know I won’t have to worry about it.”

Sansa couldn’t think of a way to say no, not after she’d just suggested that the Queen assign someone the task. “But, I don’t know anything about dragons,” she protested feebly.

“No one does,” the Queen said with a smile. She knew Sansa would do it. “But I’m told there are books in the library on the subject, I simply haven’t had time to find them.”

“Ah….well, of course I will,” she said, struggling to smile. How in the world would she manage this?

The Queen’s relieved smile was enough to make her glad she’d agreed. _Make yourself useful_ , Tyrion had said. Well, this was definitely useful.

Later, she and Brienne walked down towards the dragon pit with the Meereenes girl to act as her translator. She needed to learn High Valyrian if she was going to be in Meereen for any length of time. She remembered Septa Mordaine trying to teach it to her, but she hadn’t been able to see any use in learning the language. She’d been much more interested in….anything but learning High Valyrian. She’d been meaning to talk to Tyrion about it but as usual, she hadn’t seen him.

As they walked, Varys joined them. “Good morning, Lady Sansa, Lady Brienne,” he said with a smile.

“Morning,” Brienne replied. Sansa smiled.

“Where are you off to so early?” he asked.

“To see the dragons,” Brienne said, fascination in her voice. “The Queen has asked Lady Sansa to look after them.”

“So I’ve heard,” he murmured with a small smile. “Do you know much about dragons, Lady Sansa?”

“No more than anyone else, I suppose,” she sighed. “But…..” she hesitated. “I did have a very unusual dream about them last night. The two who are locked up.”

“Oh?” Varys said inquiringly. “Dreams can be very telling. Especially in your family.”

“What do you mean?” Brienne asked.

“Wolf dreams,” Sansa said slowly. “He’s talking about our wolf dreams.”

Varys only smiled as Brienne said, “Wolf dream? What is a wolf dream?”

“For generations, the Starks kept direwolves as pets,” Varys said. “It was always known that they held an unusual connection with the animals.”

“When we sleep, we see through their eyes,” Sansa said, realizing how ridiculous it sounded even as she said it. “It happened with my Lady. I didn’t understand at first, but I eventually realized what it was. It’s what happened when Nymeria was with us. When you saw me talking to her. I was actually talking to Arya, just letting her know that I was alright and telling her where I was.”

Brienne looked at her admiringly but said nothing.

“If I may ask, Lady Sansa, what was your dream last night?” Varys said.

“It was dark,” Sansa said slowly. “And cold. My sister was trying to sleep, but I was too hungry. Starving. I heard my brother, but he was far away. He was calling us, but I didn’t answer. I was too tired. Too hungry. And I knew he wouldn’t hear me. I wanted to go to him, but there was something holding me, something cold and heavy. And loud, it made so much noise when I moved. There was food nearby but I couldn’t get to it. I couldn’t get out. And, I was sick,” she added slowly. “I’m not sure what exactly was wrong, but I didn’t feel well at all.”

Brienne and Varys were both watching her intently, and Sansa blushed, lowering her head. Neither they or their Meereneese guide spoke as they continued their decent into the dungeon where the dragons were being held. A group of almost fifty men were already present, along with twenty sheep and several cows and bulls, all bleating and mooing noisily. The pretty girl spoke to one of the men, then returned to them. “They will begin now,” she said.

The men began to pick up long poles with metal plates attached, two men to a pole. The gathered in a semi-circle around the animals, standing close enough that the plates overlapped. At one’s order, they began to push forward, herding the animals towards the tall double doors. Slowly, the doors opened. The animals became increasingly skittish, trying to push back. The sound in the room was so loud Sansa wanted to cover her ears. But over all of the noise, she heard something else.

Chains clanking.

As the animals were pushed towards the now widely opened doors, a long green snout appeared. It turned towards Sansa, and the nostrils flared, thin wisps of smoke drifting from them. Sansa couldn’t see the creature’s eyes, but she knew without a doubt that the beast was looking for her.

She forced herself to remain still as the terrified animals were pushed into the dungeon. The cavern shook at a huge roar, and then flames licked out. Once all of the animals were inside, the doors were pushed closed.

Once the men and poles had been disbursed, one of the men came to speak to their guide. “Now we wait,” the girl told them. “Soon, two men will go in to clean.”

Sansa spent some time speaking to the man – through the girl, although she was able to decipher some words on her own – until it was time for the men to clean. She learned how often they should eat, and that they preferred sheep to anything else, and that a few men had been killed going in too soon after they ate. They’d discovered the best schedule now, and no men had been killed in weeks.

When the doors were pulled open, the two men went silently inside. Sansa didn’t realize she’d started moving until Brienne took her arm. “Where are you going?” she asked.

Sansa glanced towards her, then back towards the widely open doors. “I want to see them. I’m responsible for them, I should at least know what they look like.” She continued moving as Brienne had their girl ask the supervisor if it was safe. He shrugged.

“It should be,” the girl said. “They are fat and lazy at this time, they don’t bother anyone.”

Sansa’s steps slowed as she approached the doors. Taking a deep breath, she walked closer until she could see in the darkness. The dragons were massive, and beautiful. One of them, the lighter one, was curled into a ball in the wall, almost at the ceiling. Sansa would have thought she was sleeping but for her long tail waving lazily through the air. But the other one, the green one. Sansa couldn’t see her entire body, she was actually in the pit. Only her head and neck visible, the metal collar still attached, although only a few links remained. Sansa saw bits and pieces of the charred remains of the metal links scattered around the floor. When Sansa came near, Rhaegal lifted her head and cocked it sideways to look at her. A rumble filled the air, deep and throbbing. Not quite a growl.

Sansa kept her eyes on the dragon but turned her head slightly. “Is it always this hot in there?” The heat rolled out of the huge room in sour waves, and she could feel sweat beginning to form on her brow and back. “Does it always smell this bad?”

“It is always warm,” the girl translated. “The dragons are warm. But it usually has no smell except perhaps charred meat.”

“No, it’s not that,” Brienne said from behind her. “It smells sour, almost….” Her brown furrowed as she tried to think of the correct word.

“Sickly,” Sansa said firmly. She took a step forward, and slowly extended her hand. The dragon studied her for a moment, then extended her long neck and sniffed delicately. She rumbled again, then rested her head at Sansa’s feet. “She’s sick.” Slowly she knelt and rested a hand on the green snout, then snatched it away from the burning hot scale. “She has a fever.”

“How do you treat a sick dragon?” Brienne asked.

“I have no idea,” Sansa sighed as she rose. There were books in the library on dragons, she was certain. But she had no idea of where the library was, or what language they were written in. She asked Varys about it as they walked back towards her rooms.

He shrugged daintily. “I’m not certain, my lady,” he admitted, panting as they continued to climb the stairs. “Perhaps Lord Tyrion does. He does have a habit of finding books, doesn’t he?”

Sansa smiled slightly. “Well, he always has one or two. Or ten. I’ll have to ask him.”


	11. Chapter 11

It was four days before she finally saw him. Four nights of dreams of nausea and darkness and sickness. Four mornings of waking up drenched in sweat, trembling in exhaustion, convinced she was trapped in a cave with her sister.

“My dreams of Lady were never like this,” she said quietly to the others as they gathered for breakfast one morning. Brienne was watching her worriedly, Pod and Theon with concern. She was pleased to see that Theon looked stronger. The sun and freedom had been good for him.

“Have you found out anything more about them?” Theon asked softly.

Sansa shook her head. “No. I’m hoping Tyrion will have some knowledge of the subject. I know he’s always been fascinated with dragons, since he was a child.”

When Tyrion finally arrived later that evening, Sansa was sitting on the sofa gazing out onto the balcony. He frowned. “You look horrible,” he said, coming to stand beside her. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes, and she seemed pale.

“I’m not sleeping well,” she said, offering him her full cup of wine. He took it, sipping thoughtfully as he studied her. He didn’t want to care, but it was too late. Here she was, frail and tired and he was ready to twist himself in to a fucking knot to get her to smile. He’d stayed away because he worried he’d beg her to touch him again. _He didn’t want to care._

“When was the last time you ate?” Frustration made his voice sharper than he’d intended.

Sansa shrugged, looking down at her hands. “I had some fruit a little while ago.” The sight of her hands reminded her and she turned suddenly, reaching behind her to pick up a shirt and offer it to Tyrion.

“What is that?” he said roughly. He was suddenly tired, so so tired. He wanted to go to his room and lose himself in a book and a jug of wine. Women weren’t worth all of the effort, he was sure. Not Tysha, not Shae, not even the beautiful Targaryen Queen who wanted him to help her kill his sister and take back her family’s throne. Definitely not Sansa, with her beautiful eyes and soft hands. Sansa, who wasn’t sure she liked him, and whom he doubted would ever love him. Sansa, who had been forced into the same marriage he had. Because the one woman who was absolutely not worth the air she breathed needed to die. They all wanted him to fix their problems. Make them rich. Serve them. And then, who cares? He was just a dwarf, the Imp. Who cared if he had thoughts or feelings……

“A shirt,” Sansa said softly. “I made it for you.” He didn’t lift a hand to take it, just stared at it. After a long and awkward moment, Sansa laid on the sofa beside her. “It just seemed like you wear children’s clothing here,” she stammered. “I thought you should have something befitting your station.”

“Befitting my station?” he said rudely. “What station is that?”

“Hand of the Queen,” she said hesitantly.

“Barriston Selmy is Hand of the Queen,” he growled. “I’m just an advisor.” He drained the cup and waddled away to pour more as Sansa wondered tiredly why he was so angry.

“I wanted to talk to you about the dragons,” she said, hoping the change of subject would improve his mood.

“Why?” he drained the cup in one long gulp and poured another.

“One of them is sick,” she said. “Feverish. A wound I think.” She was certain, actually. “Beneath her wing. It’s festering.”

He shrugged. “I’m not a maester. Find someone to make a poultice.”

“No one knows anything about how to care for dragons. But you read so much,” she said. “I was hoping you’d read something about them. About how to care for them when they’re sick.”

Ah, there it was. They all wanted something. “I haven’t.”

“Is there a library in the pyramid? Or the city? There must be some old books about them.”

Tyrion turned to study her. “Do you know how to read?” he asked sharply.

Sansa was stung by his tone. “Of course I know how to read,” she said tightly. Indignantly. “I am a noble woman, I read and write.”

“Do you read High Valyrian?”

Her eyes dropped. “No,” she admitted. “I saw little use for it when our septa tried to teach it to me. I never thought I would need it.”

Tyrion grunted as he turned away to refill his cup. “Neither did I. And I’ve never seen you so much as look towards a book.”

“You haven’t exactly seen me at my best,” she sighed, slumping into the sofa, her irritation forgotten. “And even at my best, I wasn’t a voracious reader.” She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but was terrified to close her eyes. Sleep brought sickness, despair. Darkness. Pain.

Tyrion turned to face her again, opening his mouth to speak and stopped, struck by how beautiful she was in the soft light of the setting sun. Her auburn hair shone, and her skin was a perfect warm ivory. The rich blue of her gown was a perfect compliment to her hair, and the material slid smoothly over her breasts to fall into sheer folds around her waist, settling on the sofa next to the deep green of the material next to her.

She’d made him a shirt. She’d sewn it herself. Just like a wife would do.

“Are we going to eat?” he asked abruptly.

Sansa looked up, slightly dazed, and Tyrion struggled against the rush of protectiveness. _She left me there to die. Got on a ship with Baelish and left me there, knowing I’d be blamed._ But he couldn’t manage to be angry about it. Instead, he was relieved that she hadn’t had to endure any of what he’d had.

Dammit, he _didn’t want to care._

“Oh, yes,” she said, standing. The pretty brown skinned girl appeared, and gestured them to a table on the balcony.

Unthinkingly, he moved to assist her as she stood. She smiled down at him, and laid her hand on his shoulder.

_He wouldn’t care._

He stepped away, gesturing to the shirt on the sofa. “Have that sent to my room,” he said to the girl.

“Yes, my lord,” she said as he strode away, gulping down the remainder of his wine.

They sat at the table, and Sansa pushed her food around on her plate as Tyrion shoveled his into his mouth. “Eat,” he ordered.

Sansa shrugged. “I get nauseated,” she said quietly. “I’m not feeling well.” She was staring at her plate, and so didn’t see his concerned look.

“Tell me about them.” 

She shrugged again. “You’ve seen them more than I have. I’ve only –”

“Not the dragons. Your dreams.” She looked up then, to find him studying her. “Tell me about your dreams.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she said. “I’m sick. She’s sick. Chained. Hungry, because her food didn’t stay down. She used to be angry but now, she just sick. Delirious, I think. She thinks of the Queen, and of flying over water. She tried to fly away, and she and her sister fought. She remembers playing with her brother and sister when they were smaller.”

He nodded slowly. “Did you have wolf dreams of Lady every night?” Sansa shook her head. “But you’re having dragon dreams of Rheagal every night.”

At the name, Sansa felt something…..shift. As if the dragon was inside of her, and had stirred at her name. “This is different from wolf dreams,” she admitted. “With Lady, I didn’t really have an awareness of her until I was asleep. But Rheageal feels like she’s inside of me. A part of me. And,” she paused, then forced herself to speak. “When I was there, at the pit, I could sense Viserion too. I can’t now, but when I was there, I could.”

“What do you mean, you could sense her? Could you hear her thoughts?”

Sansa shook her head. “No. Just….an awareness of her. I knew what she was feeling.” She didn’t know that she would say it to anyone else, not even Brienne, who she’d become very fond of. “Have you ever heard of anything like this?” she asked, looking up from her hands. “Someone else who could feel dragons?”

He studied her thoughtfully. “Not that I recall,” he said slowly. “I wonder if you’ve some Targaryen blood in you.”

“Not that I know of,” she shrugged.

“What of the largest one? Drogon?”

“Only when he’s near,” she said. “He’s far way now but he flew over a little while ago, looking for the Queen. He loves her. The others do too, but he’s different. He adores her. He’s obsessed with her. He’s worried about his sisters, but mostly he thinks about the Queen. And eating.”

Tyrion nodded. That didn’t surprise him. “You refer to Drogon in the male, but the other two you call female. It’s long been assumed that dragons don’t really have genders.”

Sansa was quiet for a long moment, then shrugged slightly. “I don’t know that they do,” she said. “They don’t consider themselves male or female. It’s how they feel in my head.” She drug a hand across her forehead tiredly.

“You need to sleep,” he said gently. She looked worn out.

“I can’t,” she said instantly. “I can’t. When I sleep, I’m Rhaegal and I’m sick and hurting and nauseated and hungry at the same time.” Her voice began to rise in panic. “I’m hot and I’m cold and I’m chained and I can’t get out. Tyrion, _I have to get out._ ” She jumped from her chair, pacing the balcony. “I just need fresh air, and to feel the wind. I need the water.” She rubbed hard at her right side, as Tyrion looked on, alarmed. “I have to get out. I have to get out.” She looked to Tyrion, and he swore he saw Rhaegal’s bronze eyes. “You can get me out. I remember you. You can get me out. _Get me out._ ”

“Sansa, it’s alright now.” Tyrion had never been so happy to see Brienne of Tarth before. Her long legs crossed the distance from the door to the balcony quickly and she pressed a cup to Sansa’s mouth. “Here, take a sip now. I know, I know. Just a sip. There you are, that’s a good girl.”

“I can’t sleep,” Sansa complained. “Don’t make me sleep.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Brienne assured her, leading her towards the door. Already Sansa’s eyes were dropping. “My lord,” Brienne nodded to Tyrion.

He only nodded as she led Sansa away, leaving him on the balcony to contemplate what had just happened. After a long while, he rose and left, going to search for information on how to heal a dragon.


	12. Chapter 12

Sansa slept fitfully, tossing and turning and waking on and off throughout the night. Every time she woke up, Brienne was there, or not far away, with a cool cloth to wipe her brow and chilled juice to soothe her throat. When she finally woke fully, Brienne was gone and Tyrion was beside her, reading a thick book that looked incredibly old. Three others were stacked on the table beside her.

“Ah, there you are,” he said. Sliding out of his chair he approached her, offering a cup of juice. She took it gratefully.

“Where is Brienne?” she asked. Her throat felt hot, and she was sticky with sweat.

“Gone to sleep, I believe. She’s been with you all night and most of the morning.” Sansa realized the sun was high in the sky. “You need to eat something,” he said firmly. “I know it causes you nausea, but you have to keep up your strength.”

Groaning, she fell back onto her pillows. “I can’t. It will come back up.”

“You have to try. You’re not a sick dragon, Sansa. You have to eat. Just some fruit, perhaps some crackers. Come on, now. Get up,” he coaxed. She looked at him balefully, but obediently pushed herself up and swung her feet over the side of the bed, although the motion caused nausea to swim through her.

“I’d like to bathe first,” she said, pushing her hair back from her face. She felt sticky and was certain she smelled.

“Alright,” he conceded. “First a bath, then some food. And while you try to eat, I’ll tell you what I’ve found out about sick dragons.”

She smiled weakly as she rose, heading towards the bathing pool. The room was open to the west, and she could just make out the water as she removed her damp gown and stepped into the warm water, dunking herself beneath the surface and running her hands through her hair. She knew if she waited for a few moments one of the girls would come to wash her hair for her but she didn’t want to wait. Reaching for the soap and oils that were kept by the side of the pool, she began to lather her hair and then her body, her eyes focused on the small strip of ocean she could see on the horizon. Rhaegal was becoming more and more preoccupied with the ocean. She wanted to fly out over it and feel the sea air, cool and damp, then dive in. It was because of the heat of the fever, Sansa was sure.

She turned to begin to rise and jumped, slipping and falling beneath the water. She shot upright, coughing and sputtering, to find him kneeling over the edge of the pool. “What are you doing in here?” she choked out.

“Making sure you don’t faint and drown yourself,” he said wryly. His heart was pounding in fright. “Are you alright? What happened? You were fine and then all of a sudden you were gone.”

“You startled me,” she explained. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Grunting, he pushed himself to his feet and walked back towards the wall where he’d been leaning, watching his lovely wife bathe. She was certainly a beautiful girl, and his body was reminding him that it had been far too long since he’d had any kind of sexual release. “Damn,” he sighed. His wine had spilled all over the floor. “Don’t drown yourself,” he said, glancing back at Sansa. “I’ll be right back.”

She tried to rinse and get out before he returned but her long hair was tangled and needed attention. Just as she was about to scramble out of the water, he returned. “Tyrion, pass me that towel there,” she said, pointing.

But Tyrion just leaned against the wall and smiled. “Come now, Sansa. You’re my wife. I’m the man who’s supposed to see you naked. Which I’ve already done,” he reminded her.

“Good, then you needn’t see it again,” she said, struggling to remain calm. “So if you would be so good as to pass me the towel?”

Tyrion stared at her over the rim of his cup, then took a large gulp. “No.”

“What?” She didn’t think she’d heard him correctly.

“I said no. Get it yourself.”

Sansa stared at him, unsure of what to say or do. “I would think you would show your wife a bit more consideration,” she said finally.

For some reason he couldn’t fully explain, her words infuriated him. “Consideration?” he barked. “When have you ever considered _your husband_? When have you ever considered what I want? Or what I need? Why should I show you any _consideration_?”

Sansa’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What?” she sputtered.

“You haven’t even taken my name,” he spat. “The one good thing I can offer, and you wouldn’t even take that, _Lady Stark_. Never Lady Lannister, oh no. You’d rather be Ned Stark’s daughter than Tyrion Lannister’s wife. You want _consideration_? Well you might want to start giving some of it. You have a husband.” Turning, he left.

“What do you want me to do?” Sansa called after him frantically. “Tyrion! I don’t know what to do.” Her shoulders slumped and she made her way to the bench beneath the water and sat morosely. “I don’t know what to do,” she said again, quietly. 

It was a long time later when she finally climbed out of the water and wrapped the towel around herself. One of her girls appeared to help comb through her hair as she sat on a bench, thinking.

She was thoughtful and pensive all day, but Brienne put it down to the dragon dreams and let her be. The sun had set when she finally realized that Tyrion had left the four thick books he’d brought with him that morning. She, Brienne, and Theon sat trying, between the three of them, to remember enough High Valyrian to interpret one of the passages he’d marked. 

“What is this word?” Brienne asked in frustration. “It’s all over this passage. If we could figure this one word out, we could probably make sense of the rest of it.”

“I’ve never heard this one,” Theon said quietly. “And Jon, Robb, and I made a game of speaking to each other in High Valyrian. It was our secret language, until we realized Lord and Lady Stark spoke it as well.”

“What word is it?” They all looked up at Tyrion’s voice. 

“Zaldrizes,” Theon said.

“Dragon,” Tyrion said as he came to stand next to the table the open book lay on. “This passage is about caring for dragons. That’s why I marked it.”

“You found books on caring for dragons for me,” Sansa said, pleasantly surprised. She smiled brightly at him. “And you’re wearing your shirt.”

She swore he blushed. “Yes, well. My lady wife spent hours making it for me, the least I could do is put it on. And you don’t need these books.” He closed the open volume and pushed it aside. “You need this one.” In it’s place he laid a slender book bound in light blue leather, that shimmered with an iridescent sheen in the fading light. “This,” he announced, “is the journal of an ancient Valyrian dragonkeeper.”

Sansa gasped in delight, and reached for it. “Careful,” Tyrion warned. “It’s fragile.”

“It’s beautiful,” Brienne said as Sansa carefully opened the book.

“Yes, it’s bound in dragon skin, as far as I can tell,” Tyrion said. “Most of it is fairly tedious, but there are passages that discuss what to do if one falls ill, or is wounded.”

“You are amazing,” Sansa said happily. “Thank you, Tyrion.”

“I do try to please,” he said with a small smile. It would most likely be his downfall. But for now, her smile swept away his fears and soothed the ever-growing pit of anger that seemed to fill him. “If you two would excuse us, I’d like to speak with my lady wife privately.”

“Of course,” Brienne said, immediately rising. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night,” Theon mumbled, rising. But he smiled a little, and Tyrion swore he winked at Sansa.

“The boy is getting better,” Tyrion remarked as he climbed up onto the sofa next to Sansa. “Stronger.”

“Yes, he is,” she said, carefully turning a few pages in the book.

“Has he told you about your brothers?”

She nodded. “Long ago. I’m happy to think that they’re out there somewhere, hopefully safe. Cercei thinks they’re dead, so she isn’t looking for them. What is this?” she slid the book towards him, showing him a drawing of a tall, flowering plant.

He glanced down at the words. “That is for indigestion, I believe. Sour stomach, is what he calls it.”

“That’s not our problem,” she said, slowly turning the page. They were stiff with age, and she tried to be careful with them. “What about this one?”

“I think that’s the one you need,” Tyrion said. “For injuries beneath their scales. We need to find that plant, boil it with a few other herbs and make Rhaegal drink it.”

She studied it carefully. “I don’t even know who to ask,” she sighed.

“I’ve someone searching for it,” he assured her. “Sansa, I owe you an apology for this morning.”

Softly, she closed the book and set it on the table. “Accepted,” she said. “And I owe you one as well. I don’t know what to do, Tyrion. If we were at home, I’d know how to be your wife. I know how to run your home, and manage our social obligations, and care for the people who depend on us. But here, I just don’t know what to do. I’m sorry that I don’t know how to be your wife.”

“These are difficult times,” he said quietly, sliding off the couch and moving to pour them each a cup of wine. 

Sansa sipped from her cup. “Sometimes,” she said. “Sometimes I wish we could just disappear and start over somewhere new. Somewhere no one knew the Starks and the Lannisters. Where we could just be ourselves. I will always be that traitor Ned Starks daughter, and you’ll always be Tywin Lannister’s son, kingslayer and kinslayer. We’ll live in our father’s shadows forever.”

Tyrion didn’t want to think she was right, but he knew it was true. “We’ll just have to work hard and carve out our own place,” he said. “Even though the odds are stacked against us.” The words sounded hollow to his own ears, and the anger pit inside him seemed to swirl and boil. Damned Cercei. He’d make her pay.

They sat quietly for a long time, each lost in their thoughts. “Well, at least we don’t have to face it alone,” Sansa said, with forced cheerfulness. “We have each other.”

“Do we,” Tyrion said, amused.

“Yes, we do,” she said firmly. “Lord and Lady Lannister, together.” She held up her cup. “A toast. To the future. May we make it our own.”

Tyrion smiled as he tapped his cup to hers. “May we make it our own.” And as they each drank, for the first time in a long time, Tyrion thought things might actually work out.


	13. Chapter 13

“How is Rhaegal?” the Queen asked.

“Still ill,” Sansa admitted. “But Tyrion is helping me find a particular plant that we’ve read can help heal flesh wounds in dragons. So hopefully soon, she’ll be fine.”

“I admit that I’m more concerned about what you told me about the chains,” the Queen admitted. “There’s nothing to stop them from escaping when the doors open for them to eat.”

Sansa didn’t want to tell her how likely that was, but knew she had no choice. “Not only are the chains broken,” Sansa said slowly. “But Rhaegal is desperate to get out. She’s taken to trying to burn the doors down. It’s the fever, I’m certain. She just wants to get to the water, to cool down. But I’m worried about the feeding tomorrow. The second the doors are open, I believe she’s going to try to escape. And if she tries, Viserion will follow.”

The Queen nodded. She’d been told that the noise from the dragon pit was unbearable, and the doors were beginning to show wear from the constant heat of Rhaegal’s fire. “The people are so afraid of them,” the Queen sighed, rising to stand at the balcony rail, overlooking the city. “If they get loose….”

“Have they hurt anyone? Is that why everyone’s afraid?” Sansa asked curiously.

The Queen was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Drogon……Drogon ate a little girl.”  


Sansa gasped, and looked at her in horror. 

“No one knows,” the Queen said in a rush. “And I want to keep it that way. But I’m worried. The people are afraid because, well because they’re dragons. And they _might_ get hungry enough to do what Drogon did, after they eat all of the livestock, which will starve everyone before the dragons get here. So I chained them. If they get loose……” she shook her head sadly.

Sansa knew from her brief conversations with Tyrion that the Queen was having a hard time keeping control. Having the dragons loose would only increase the already high tensions. “I’ll do what I can to keep that from happening,” she promised, then looked to the sky. “Drogon is coming,” she said casually.

The Queen looked at her in surprise. “How do you know?” she asked, seconds before his loud roar filled the sky. The Queen only looked up and smiled.

“I heard his wings,” Sansa said quickly. By now they could hear the steady beat of his wings moving. She knew the second he saw the Queen. He angled towards them, dropping lower, and roared again. The rush of love Sansa felt from him moved her to tears. He called to his sisters. He didn’t understand why they wouldn’t join him in the sky, and he missed their company. He circled a few more times, wanting to be near his Mother, but there was nowhere to land so he maneuvered away to go find something to eat.

Leaving the Queen, she returned to her rooms, surprised to find Pod there supervising a group of Meereneese men who were moving boxes and crates. “We’re moving in here,” he told her with a grin. “Lord Tyrion told me last night. Didn’t you know?” he asked, at her surprised expression.

“No,” she admitted. But she was smiling as she and Pod and Brienne got his room - the one adjacent to hers, thankfully Brienne was fine with moving a few doors down – arranged. 

“Where’s Theon?” Brienne asked Pod, who shrugged.

“With Lord Tyrion,” he said. “My lord’s been taking Theon with him more and more.”

“It’s good for him,” Brienne said firmly. Sansa and Pod both nodded. Theon was still skittish and frightened easily, and obsessive about bathing. Hopefully being with Tyrion would help build his confidence.

She didn’t see him at all that day, and he didn’t appear for dinner either. “He usually doesn’t,” Pod shrugged. “But hopefully now that we’re in here with you, he will.” Both Pod and Brienne smiled brightly. Sansa struggled not to grin herself. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “He hasn’t said anything to me about any of this. It could mean nothing.”

“Nothing he does means nothing,” Brienne said lightly. “It means he wants to be nearer to you. Which is good.”

“But I still don’t know what to do,” Sansa protested. “I don’t know how to be his wife here. If we were at home -”

“That’s because there’s nothing _for_ you to do,” Pod interrupted her. “Except be here. Be kind. Be loving. Talk to him, _listen_ to him. Without asking for anything. Everyone is always asking him for things, wanting him to do things. Just being here is enough. Trust me.”

“Well, you know him better than I do, so I suppose I’ll have to,” Sansa sighed. They finished their food and said their goodnights, going to their separate rooms. Sansa sat on her bedroom balcony for a long while, listening to the sounds of the city below. She knew that the city was a dangerous place after dark, and hoped Tyrion wasn’t down there.

Finally she rose, deciding to bathe. It was Rhaegal in her head, wanting water so badly. Sansa knew it, but decided to bathe anyway. Being immersed in water sounded lovely, even if it wasn’t the cold water of the sea. The warm water was soothing, and she tried to relax. But her mind was on tomorrow’s feeding. Rhaegal would try to fly away the second the doors opened. She was delirious, hot and tired and sick, and all she wanted was to drop down into the ocean and feel the cool water. How many people would she kill in her escape? Sansa tried to tell her that medicine was coming soon, to help her feel better, but Rhaegal didn’t understand. Sansa tried to tell her to rest, to sleep, but Rhaegal didn’t feel well enough. She didn’t want to be soothed, she wanted water. She felt like something was clawing at her insides, trying to get out. She wanted water, and to fly. She wanted to be out.

Sansa’s eyes flew open as she felt the water shift and she closed them tightly again at the sight of a naked Tyrion stepping into the bathing pool. “Good evening wife,” he said, amused.

“Good evening, husband,” she said softly, opening her eyes as he slid onto the bench beside her. The water came up to his neck. “How was your day?” she asked. _Be kind. Be loving. Listen to him, without asking for anything._

He grunted, stretching his sore legs. “Those stairs are going to be the death of me,” he grumbled. “Fortunately, this room has a warm bathing pool,” he sighed. “I have a feeling I’ll be spending many a night here.”

“Well then, I’m glad we have it,” she said. “How was Theon today?”

“Still afraid of his own shadow,” Tyrion sighed. “Literally. But he’s improving. It’s going to take some time. Giving him something to do helps him, and it’s a help to me to have someone who speaks Common Tongue and High Valyrian. He’s rather intelligent.”

Sansa nodded, knowing he was right that Theon needed time. The only reason her nightmares had stopped was because of the dragon dreams. “Well, he was educated with us.”

Tyrion nodded. “Hopefully I can help him remember all of the things your father taught him. He won’t forget his experience with Ramsey Bolton but he’ll move on from it. One day. What about you? How was your day?”

She shrugged. “Fine. I met with the Queen about the dragons, and the oversaw getting your room assembled. I didn’t know you were planning to move in here with us.”

“I assumed you wouldn’t mind,” he smiled.

“I don’t,” she assured him. 

“Good. It occurred to me that you should still be the lady of my home, and take care of the people who depend on us. Namely, Lady Brienne, Pod, and Theon. Although we want to ensure our Meereneese servants are treated well also.”

“Of course,” she said instantly.

They were silent for long moments, as each wondered what to do next. Tyrion wanted desperately to remind her that she had other wifely duties – as his body, intensely aware of hers beside him, strained to point out – but after her ordeal with Ramsey Bolton, he knew that he had to move carefully there. Again, the despair washed over him. When would it be his turn, he wondered? Always providing for other people, giving them what they wanted, what they _needed_. But who cared about his needs?

Sansa took a deep breath, prepared to perhaps lay a hand on his thigh. She and Brienne had discussed this. After Ramsey she didn’t know that she would be able to tolerate a man’s touch, but she also remembered she and Tyrion’s wedding night, and how kind he’d been. _I could be good to you._ And he had been. He was still saving her. But more than that, she didn’t want to become Theon – afraid to live, afraid to think, always needing to be told what to do. She was a Stark, a Lannister. And a Lannister always paid their debts. She owed Tyrion a huge debt, and it was time for her to pay it. _Be loving_ , Pod had said. She didn’t know that he’d meant sex, but she couldn’t pretend the elephant wasn’t in the room any longer.

Tyrion stood suddenly, walking away.

“Where are you going?” Sansa asked, startled.

“To….” He stopped, realizing he didn’t know where he was going. “Anywhere that’s not here.” He climbed out of the pool.

“Tyrion, wait,” Sansa called.

He stopped and turned to face her, his erection fully visible. Sansa blushed brightly. “What?” he growled.

Sansa wasn’t sure what to say but stood up and began moving towards him, keeping her eyes on his face. “There’s another wifely duty,” she said softly, her face still red.

“Is there.” He turned away again and this time Sansa followed him mutely into his bedroom where he poured a cup of wine that he drank down in two large gulps before pouring another. He turned again and stopped, surprised to see Sansa standing nervously, unconsciously wringing her hands, water dripping from her naked body. “What are you doing?”

She took a deep breath. “Being your wife.” She moved to his bed and sat on the side. “Are you coming to bed?”

He couldn’t adequately describe the rush of emotion the filled him. The girl was obviously terrified, why was she doing this? “Go away, Sansa.” He was suddenly exhausted. He just wanted to be alone and drink until he could sleep without dreaming. 

“No,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m your wife. And you obviously…” she hesitated. “Need relief.”

“So you’re offering yourself on the sacrificial altar?” he said sarcastically. “How kind of you.”

“I’m not a sacrifice,” she said instantly. “I’m your wife. This is where I’m supposed to be.” She slid her legs beneath the blankets. “Are you coming to bed?” she repeated.

“And what will you do if I say yes?”

“What do you mean?” she said, confused.

He moved to stand beside the bed. “Will you close your eyes and endure it? Cry silently? Scream in terror?” He sighed. “Go back to your bed, Sansa.”

“I will not,” she said stubbornly. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I’m not ready. But I will not run away. I will not close my eyes, and I will not scream. I am here and I’m staying here every night from now on, so you’d best get used to it.” She turned to her side, and closed her eyes. “Good night, Tyrion.”

Growling softly Tyrion pulled on his pants and a loose shirt and went to his desk and opened a book. But of course he couldn’t concentrate on the words, not with his lovely wife lying nude in his bed. She was a determined little girl, wasn’t she. He sipped from his cup, watching her. She wasn’t sleeping, he knew, but she was making a good effort. He’d have to be gentle with her. She deserved that, after everything she’d been through. She was a fighter, though. She’d run away from Kings Landing, and then from Bolton. She’d rescued Theon and had given Brienne purpose, although the Lady would deny it. She’d made them a family, he realized. And here she was, still in his bed although he’d told her to go away. What was it she wanted?

He waited until she was actually sleeping before undressing and crawling into the bed. His back and legs ached and it felt good to lie down. Slowly, he moved closer to her, until he was lying against her. She sighed and shifted slightly as he laid a hand on her hip, but didn’t wake. He lay there, his face near her breasts, wondering what he was doing. While it felt good to lie down, his body wouldn’t rest, not with her this near. She shifted restlessly, and he took the opportunity to press closer to her. No, he wasn’t going to sleep. Not at all.

Sansa came awake slowly, beginning to separate herself from Rhaegal’s sickness and delusion. Rhaegal told her that it was Tyrion next to her. She wasn’t sure if she liked the little man, but she knew he could help her and that certainty was bolstered by Sansa’s confidence in him. Gradually Sansa became aware of her surroundings, and her own memory returned. She was in Tyrion’s room, in his bed, which is why he was beside her. His face was pressed against her breasts, his feet near her legs. His erection was hot and hard, resting against her stomach. The feel of it brought a flash of fear as she remembered suddenly Ramsey’s punishing intrusion. The blows. The tearing and pain. He’d laughed as she screamed. “ _No one is coming, so scream as much as you wish_.” She’d tried to run but there was no where to go. The door was locked and no one was coming to help her. She’d slid down to the floor sobbing as he’d come towards her again, smiling, blood on his hard shaft. Her blood.

“Shhhh,” Tyrion whispered. He didn’t know what had frightened her but her heart was racing, her body had tensed, and her skin was clammy with sweat. “It’s alright.” His hand gently stroked her hip as he looked up at her. Her eyes were open, but glazed with fear. He assumed it was another dream. “It’s alright Sansa. You’re home. You’re with me.”

He was surprised when she pulled him tightly against her, shaking and crying. “Shhh, it’s over love, it’s over,” he whispered, holding her. “Shhhhh.”

“I want to forget,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to remember him. How do I forget?”

Damn Ramsay Bolton. Tyrion mentally added his name with Cercei’s. They would both pay. In blood and tears.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo sorry for the delay!! My son has been in the hospital, AND my laptop died. Ugh. But I think I’m back on track now.

Sansa stood silently as the men nervously gathered their poles, overlapping the metal plates and beginning to herd the crying animals towards the doors. No one spoke. Over the animals, Rhaegal and Viserion were roaring, and spitting fire at the doors. Sansa wanted to tell the men to stop, but the dragons had to be fed. Opening the doors would bring death to more than just the animals.

Beside her Tyrion stood silently. The animals had been covered in the particular weed the dragon keepers journal had told them would help heal a flesh wound, but he wondered if it would matter. The chains were broken, and they all knew there was nothing to stop them from simply flying away.

“If they come out, drop the poles and run. Just get out of their way. I’ll try to stop them. You just run,” she’d told the men through their Meereneese interpreter. They’d all nodded solemnly.

Finally, the doors were pulled open. At first nothing happened, and the men pushed the animals closer and closer. Suddenly a stream of fire licked out, roasting the first of the sheep. The other animals tried to run back but couldn’t.

“So far, so good,” Tyrion mumbled. Sansa reached for his hand, holding it tightly. Rhaegal was waiting, it was Viserion who was hungry.

Closer and closer, until the animals were all inside. The doors slowly began to close and Sansa felt Rhaegal prepare to leap.

“No!” she yelled, taking a step forward. “No!”

Rhaegal pushed through the door, fire spitting from her mouth in long streams. The men dropped the poles and scattered as she roared, throwing fire everywhere.

Tyrion and Brienne pulled at Sansa, trying to pull her back. “Rhaegal,” she called. “No! Don’t! Let us help you!”

Rhaegal turned at the sound of Sansa’s voice, and suddenly Tyrion smelled it – decaying flesh, hot, sour, and nauseatingly strong. She lifted her wings and he saw the black circle where the scales had fallen off and the flesh was rotting, obviously badly infected.

“Ugh,” Brienne said, wrinkling her nose. “Sansa, we have to go.” Around them everyone was running as Viserion pushed her head through the door behind her sister, still chewing calmly. “We can’t stop them.”

“No, she’ll listen to me,” Sansa insisted. “Rhaegal!”

Hey eyes on Sansa, Rhaegal moved towards them. “It’s alright,” Tyrion said to Brienne. “She won’t hurt us.” He hoped. He was fairly certain the dragon wouldn’t harm Sansa, but he was less certain about the rest of them.

But Rhaegal didn’t blow out any fire, or even roar. She laid her head at Sansa’s feet, her loud rumble filling the air. “I know,” Sansa said, kneeling and using the material of her skirt to shield her hand as she touched the dragon’s snout. “I know. But Tyrion found it. We can help you now, just give us a chance.” She looked up suddenly. “No Viserion,” she said sternly. “Stay there, please. There’s still food, why don’t you eat?”

But Viserion roared loudly and flung fire towards them. Rhaegal shot up to intercept it, protecting them with her wide wing, then turning viciously to attack her sister.

“No! Stop it!” Sansa cried, horrified, but allowed Tyrion and Brienne to pull her away as the dragons tore at each other, fire and claws flashing. The walls around them shook as first Rhaegal, then Viserion began the trek up to the outside, up the steep landing, snapping at each other, flame bouncing off the walls of the corridors.

Brienne, Sansa, and Tyrion, along with their translator, had pressed themselves against a wall, as small as they could make themselves. Easier for Lord Lannister than the rest of us, Brienne thought. “Well then. That didn’t go as badly as it could have.”

“No,” Tyrion agreed. “I don’t think anyone was killed.”

“They’re not done yet,” Sansa warned, moving to follow the dragons. “Rhaegal isn’t strong enough for this. She’s trying to get to the skies.”

They met the Queen and her guards on the ground level. Sure enough, Viserion was circling the pyramid. “Where’s Rhaegal?” the Queen asked urgently.

“Already to the sea,” Sansa replied unhappily. She was beneath the water, trying to rid herself of the unnatural heat that engulfed her. “And Drogon is coming. He heard his sisters. I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I tried to contain them, but –”

The Queen waved her words away as Drogon’s loud roar filled the skies. “It isn’t your fault. They weren’t meant to be contained.”

Messendei returned to her Queen’s side. “Only one man hurt, in the running. He fell and was stepped on. He is being cared for.”

“Thank the gods,” Brienne sighed. “That could have gone much worse.” They all nodded.

“We knew it could happen,” the Queen sighed. “They weren’t meant to be chained. I’ll have to think of some other way to contain them. But I don’t know how.”

“Let me continue my research, Your Majesty,” Tyrion said as they headed back towards the pyramid. “I may be able to come up with something.”

“Oh, but you’ve so much else to do,” the Queen said, obviously distressed. “Perhaps Sansa could do it?”

“I don’t read High Valyrian well enough,” Sansa said regretfully. “I never thought I’d use it, so I didn’t pay attention during my lessons.”

Tyrion eyed Theon as he approached. “Perhaps it could be a project for Lord Theon,” he said thoughtfully. “He speaks and reads High Valyrian fluently.”

Theon had stepped to the side a little distance away from them, his eyes on the ground. “Lord Greyjoy,” the Queen called. “Would you join us, please?”

Theon’s eyes widened as he glanced nervously at the Queen, then hesitantly stepped towards them, his eyes once again glued to the ground.

“The poor boy,” Tyrion heard Brienne mumble. He agreed with her. Theon’s greatest desire was to remain unseen and thereby offend no one. To be spoken to by the Queen herself was akin to a nightmare.

“Lord Greyjoy, Lord Lannister tells me that you speak and read High Valyrian fluently?” the Queen asked gently. His fear was a palpable thing, and he reminded her of a frightened animal. Would he fight if cornered, she wondered?

Tyrion saw the boy’s throat bob as he gulped, then nodded silently.

“I would consider it a personal favor if you would assist Lady Lannister in researching how to care for the dragons. Specifically, how to safely contain them,” the Queen continued. “I need Lord Lannister to focus on other things, and she will need assistance.”

Theon thought about that for a moment. I would consider it a personal favor. He nodded slowly, then lifted his eyes to the beautiful woman before him. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“Good,” the Queen smiled. “Thank you so much.” She left them in a cloud of pale silk, her guards and Messendei trailing her, as Tyrion watched the boy thoughtfully. What was he thinking, he wondered. He could have sworn he’d seen a flash of….something….in his eyes when he’d spoken to the Queen. Cunning? Thoughtfulness? Whatever it had been, Tyrion wasn’t sure he liked it.

Sansa looked up as Viserion angled away from the pyramid, following Drogon inland. “Where’s Rhaegal?” Tyrion asked.

“Still dunking herself in the ocean,” Sansa said. “How long before the medicine will be ready?”

“They’re working on it now,” Theon said quietly. “That’s what I came to tell you. They’ve just lit the fire beneath it. He says it should be ready by morning.”

“How will we get her back here?” Brienne asked as they headed back towards the stairs.

“I can get her here,” Sansa said. “I think. I don’t know, she’s feeling so poorly, and the fight with Viserion took a lot of her energy.”

As they began the long climb up their rooms, Sansa hoped that her words were true. The dragon was increasingly delirious, and remembering vividly how she’d been tricked into captivity. She didn’t trust anyone. And Sansa remembered clearly what the Queen had said about Drogon, and why the people feared the dragons. In Rhaegal’s current state, there was no telling what she’d do. She could only pray that when she called, Rhaegal would come.


	15. Chapter 15

Sansa, Brienne, and Theon started going over the books that Pod brought them. Sansa and Brienne were working on learning the language. Brienne actually remembered some from her lessons growing up, so it was easier for her than Sansa, who struggled with the pronunciations and tenses. When Tyrion came in that evening he worked with them as well.

“There’s nothing about how to contain them,” Sansa complained.

“They aren’t meant to be contained,” Brienne reminded her. “We might do better to focus on training them.”

“Training has to happen when they’re young,” Tyrion said. “These are fully grown dragons; I doubt we’ll be successful at that either.”

“There has to be something,” Sansa said frustratedly.

“No, there doesn’t,” Tyrion said. “Most of the dragon knowledge died out with the dragons, so it’s entirely possible that if the knowledge we’re looking for ever existed, it’s long gone. The best place to look is actually the library at Dragonstone, or the Red Keep.”

“Then what do we do?” Sansa asked.

“The best we can,” Tyrion said firmly. “We’ll use the information we have and formulate a plan. It may not involve containing them, but hopefully we’ll be able to train them. And when we have eggs, we’ll know how to behave, because at some point one or all three of them should lay.”

Finally, they went to bed. Sansa hesitated before entering Tyrion’s room, but Pod smiled and gestured her in. “He’s in the bathing room,” he said quietly.

She nodded and slid into the bed as Pod left quietly. She was dozing lightly when he finally returned, then stopped. “Sansa,” he said, obviously surprised.

“Hmmm?” she said, cracking open her eyes.

“Nothing,” he said gently. “Go to sleep.” As her eyes drifted closed he dried himself and climbed into bed. How was he supposed to sleep with her here? And after last night, he definitely couldn’t sleep near her. He lay staring at the ceiling for a long time as Sansa lay beside him. She slept restlessly, turning and twisting and sighing. He could feel the heat radiating from her, and her skin was flushed. Rhaegal, he wondered? Or Ramsey? His young wife had been through enough to give anyone nightmares. And yet here she was, smiling and kind. She’d become a friend to the Queen, and looked after Theon and Brienne and Pod, and had taken on the care of the dragons – which she knew nothing about, and likely had little interest in learning – and was even now lying in his bed, trying to be a good wife, although she had no idea how.

Her dragon dreams were an interesting phenomenon. He’d read of the Stark’s and their connection to direwolves, just as the Targaryen’s and their dragons. Were they the same thing? He’d never thought of it but it made sense. Some kind of old magic in their blood, he supposed, left over from the First Men of Valyria. But for Sansa – a Stark and a Tully – to connect with dragons was interesting.

As he pondered how that could have happened, one of the dragons roared overhead. He turned and stilled when he realized Sansa was watching him intently, with eyes that were more dragon than human. She leaned closer, sniffing delicately, then sighed and slid over to lie against him, making a sound almost like a purr. Her skin was warm, and her hair smelled of flowers from its last washing. She snuggled against him, and he cursed his body’s immediate response. Now was not the time, not while she wasn’t herself. Her hand trailed down his shoulder and across his chest. He gently caught it before it dipped lower, holding it firmly. She rubbed her cheek against his, then softly flicked her hot tongue across his face.

“Sansa,” he ground out. He couldn’t take much more. “Sansa.”

She didn’t respond, only kissed his face and neck. “Sansa,” he said firmly. “You have to wake up now. Come on.”

She ignored him, continuing her onslaught of hot kisses. She pulled her hand away from his grasp ran it down his stomach and lower. Tyrion groaned. “Sansa,” he said desperately. “Sansa. Please.” But she seemed to not hear him, and his thin resolve gave out. He pressed his hungry mouth to hers and pushed her onto her back. He wanted to regret it but couldn’t. As she herself had pointed out, it was her wifely duty.

He was pleased that she fulfilled her wifely duty two additional times before dawn, unbidden, and he was whistling as he broke his fast, then cheerfully instructed Theon to wake Sansa when Rhaegal’s potion was ready, and send word to him, he’d meet them. A few hours later Brienne decided to find Sansa, as she still hadn’t appeared.

She was in the bathing pool, dozing lightly in the warm water. Behind her one of the Meereneese girls sat, watching her. She rose and came to speak to Brienne. “She is still in her dragon dreams, mostly,” she said softly.

“Well, we have to get her out and ready to go,” Brienne sighed. But Sansa woke when Brienne called her, and sluggishly got herself out of the pool. It took almost an hour to get her dried and dressed, and her long hair arranged. By the time they got to The Great Pit of Daznak, Theon and Tyrion were there alongside long trough filled with water and herbs. It smelled earthy and spicy.

Tyrion smiled gently when he saw her, and Sansa blushed brightly. _Oh, that finally happened_ , Brienne thought, smothering a grin.

“Hello wife,” he smiled.

“Hello husband,” Sansa answered, just as the Queen arrived.

“Alright Lady Lannister,” Tyrion said after they’d greeted her. “Can you get her here?”

The Queen looked at her curiously as Sansa nodded, then looked to the sky. Rhaegal was lying on a rock cropping not far away. She was tired and achy and hungry and weak. Her side burned in pain and she didn’t want to life her wing. Sansa coaxed and soothed and urged, and finally Rhaegal took flight. But she veered out over the water, dunking herself in and out and settling on the beach tiredly.

After having a whispered conversation with the Queen, explaining that Sansa could speak to her dragons, he looked to Sansa, who’d been staring at the sky for twenty minutes. “How’s it going?” Tyrion asked quietly.

Sansa sighed. “She’s tired and doesn’t feel well enough to get here,” she said quietly. “She’ll fly a little, and then stop and I have to coax her back into the sky. And I think she went in the wrong direction once.”

It was over an hour before Rhaegal finally dropped heavily into the pit. By then Drogon and Viserion were there as well. Sansa had asked for their help and they’d obliged. The Queen was shocked at the stench. “It’s badly infected, Your Majesty,” Tyrion had told her as she held a scented cloth over her nose.

Sansa coaxed, and Drogon nudged until they got her to drink some of the water. Tyrion and the Queen left, along with Viserion and Drogon, But Sansa, Brienne, and Theon stayed. Sansa had men bring cool water to pour over her, which only steamed and sizzled against the hot scales. At her request, Theon had a sheep slaughtered and added to the trough, and Rhaegal took a little more. Finally, when the sun was setting and Rhaegal was sleeping, they returned to their rooms. “A fresh batch of the herbs is being prepared,” Theon told her quietly. “For the morning.”

Sansa nodded tiredly. “Thank you for all of your help, Theon.”

He nodded, the Queen’s voice echoing in his ears. _I would consider it a personal favor_. What could he do with the Queen’s favor?


	16. Chapter 16

She was soaking in the bathing pool when Tyrion joined her. She blushed and looked down at the water when he stepped in. “How’s Rhaegal?” he asked as he settled himself.

“Dozing some, but still very sick,” Sansa sighed. “She took a little more of the water, she likes the taste of it, and I think it’s helping her nausea.”

“Well, it’s a good start. So tell me, wife,” Tyrion said, reaching for the cup of wine he’d brought with him. “Last night. Was that you or Rhaegal?”

Her face burned even brighter, if possible. “A little of both, I suppose,” she said, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her.

He nodded slowly. “And is there a chance of it happening again?”

Sansa nodded mutely, her eyes still glued to the water.

“Oh?” he said, gently amused at his lovely wife’s discomfort. She was a sweet girl, she didn’t deserve the hell that Cercei had put her through. The thought of Cercei brought the usual wave of cold anger. She would pay, he’d make certain of it. She and Ramsay Bolton, both. In blood and tears, if it was the last thing he ever did.

Sansa started to speak, stuttered some, and stopped. Then took a deep breath. “It was only her the first time,” she blurted. “The other times were me.”

“Were they?” The confession washed away his anger, and brought a tender smile to his face.

She hesitated. “It was nice,” she smiled shyly. “I didn’t think I could enjoy it, but I did.”

He stared at her for a long moment as the fury returned. She didn’t think she could enjoy sex with him. Of course not, who would? He was deformed, an embarrassment. Hideous. Unlovable, even by his own family. How could he expect anyone else to love him? He was just The Imp, there to do other’s bidding, to make all of their dreams come true. Never mind his own dreams. Grunting, he turned away, putting his cup down and reaching for the soap to bathe, hoping to wash away the rage that encapsulated him.

Sansa glanced up at his back. He was well proportioned, with muscular arms that she’d never noticed before. His entire body was muscular. But he seemed tense. She wondered if his back were bothering him. She knew that the stairs took their toll on his back and knees the most. Biting her lip, she took another deep breath. “Would you like me to wash your back?” she asked shyly.

“No,” he said abruptly. “No, I wouldn’t like that.”

Was he angry? “Are your legs bothering you?” she asked as he rinsed away all of the soap. “I could rub them for y-”

“Keep your hands to yourself,” he snapped. “Along with the rest of you.” He climbed out of the pool, splashing water over the floor in his haste. “I don’t need your pity,” he spat, snatching a towel from a nearby bench. “And there’s no need for you to share my bed any longer. I can find a woman who isn’t so repulsed by my touch, someone who thinks she could enjoy it.”

Sansa stared at him, sputtering in astonishment, until the meaning of his words sank in. “ _Tyrion Lannister, you stop right there!_ ” she demanded in a voice eerily reminiscent of her mother. In the fighting pit Rhaegal stirred, fire licking at the edges of her mouth in anger at the little man who had annoyed her mistress.

Tyrion turned, a growl on his lips and fury in his eyes. “How dare you,” he said hissed. “I will not be spoken to like a child by _you_ , of all people.”

Sansa ignored him, climbing out of the pool. “Not you,” she said, water raining from her body. In spite of his anger, Tyrion felt himself grow hard. Damn it all, why did she have to be so _beautiful_? Why wasn’t she ugly and spiteful? He began to turn away again, but suddenly realized what she was saying.

“Not you. _Him_. After -” her breath caught when she realized she didn’t want to say his name. She didn’t want him to intrude on the fragile trust she and her husband were building. She wouldn’t let him. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of how to best speak her mind. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to enjoy it after him,” she said in a rush. “But with you, I did. With you, it was wonderful.” The tears poured down her face, and she turned away to find a towel to wrap herself in. Then sank to the bench, trying to compose herself. She hated that he’d marred her memories of her home. She hated that she still felt fear when she thought of him. She wished she’d known how to fight, how to hurt him, how to make him stop. But most of all, she hated knowing he was still alive, and living in her home.

Tyrion felt like a fool. Of course. Bolton had been her first, and after what he’d done it would make sense that she’d think she could never enjoy any type of intimacy. “Sansa,” he said softly. Regretfully. Coming to stand beside her, he laid a hand on her knee. “Sansa, I’m sorry. I completely misunderstood. Forgive me.” She nodded, continuing to cry. “Come now, love, don’t cry anymore. I’m truly sorry.”

But she cried harder. “I know. I’m just so tired,” she sobbed. “Between the nightmares and the dragon dreams I can’t sleep. I don’t feel well. I’m trying to be useful but I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t read Valyrian, I can’t even manage to speak it. I let the dragons out and now they’re going to eat the children and it will be my fault. I wish we’d never gone to King’s Landing. I wish King Robert had never come to Winterfell. Then my family would be alive and I’d be home with them. I hate this!” She wailed, looked at him finally, tears still raining down her cheeks. “And I hate her. Why is she like this? What did I ever to do make her hate me?”

Tyrion pulled her into his arms, and let her cry against his shoulder. “You didn’t do anything, love. You were just a pawn to her, just a piece to manipulate in her childish game. And I have no idea of why she’s like this,” he said sourly. “Jamie and I received the same upbringing, and we’re not like her. You know what I’m hoping,” he said conspiratorially. “I’m hoping that when the Queen gets to King’s Landing, she’ll let Drogon eat her.”

Sansa looked up in surprise, then gave him a watery smile. Then a chuckle.

“Yes, it would be perfect, don’t you think?” Tyrion said with a smile. “While I grew up fascinated with dragons, Cercei is terrified of them. She often said that she was happy they’d all died out before we were born. I think it would be a fitting end for her to be eaten by a dragon.”

He managed to get her dried and into his room, where he pressed a cup of wine into her hand, in the hopes that it would calm her remaining sniffles. She only took a few sips before sitting the cup down while he blew out all but one of the candles. “Come along, Lady Lannister,” he said, taking her hand. “We should lie down.”

Obediently, she got into bed and allowed him to pull her close. She sighed softly against his shoulder. “Do you remember on our wedding night,” she said quietly. “When you said that you could be good to me?”

Tyrion nodded, smiling wryly. “I had every intention of keeping that promise. At the time.”

She pushed herself up onto one elbow. “But you have,” she insisted. “And I want to be good to you, too.”

“I’m not much good to anyone,” he said sourly. “I’m a jaded, cynical bastard who drinks too much, and you should be sorry that you’re stuck with me.”

“Well, I’m not,” she said seriously. “And neither are you. Although you do drink too much,” she admitted. “But you’re a good man Tyrion, and you have a kind heart. Because you know what it is to be hated for things you had no control over. You know what it is to be mocked and ridiculed. And I know that right now you’re hurting, but you still have that kindness inside of you, and I know it will come back one day.”

“You think so?” he said, amused by her little speech.

“Yes, I do,” she said, even though she knew he was laughing at her. “And not only am I stuck with you, you’re stuck with me. I’m proud to be Lady Tyrion Lannister. You’re brilliant and kind and I promise you, I will live up to your name.”

“You think I’m a good man? Oh love, you are so young,” he sighed. “Your father was a good man. I’m just-”

“You’re just as good a man as he was,” she insisted. “Perhaps in a different way, but just as good. If you want to be. And I’ve seen enough horrible men to know. Right now you’re tired, rightfully so. You’ve been abused and mistreated. You helped her, and worked, and they’ve repaid you by labeling you the most heinous of criminals. But I’m going to take care of you,” she said determinedly. “We’ll be good to each other.”

Tyrion gazed up at her, slightly stunned by her passion and wondering what he’d done to deserve her faith. Slowly, her reached up and pulled the pins from her hair until it tumbled down around them. He ran his fingers through it slowly. “Cercei did do one good thing,” he said.

“What was that?”

“She gave you to me,” he said quietly, slowly. He didn’t know if his heart could stand being broken again. But she was young and beautiful and looking at him with something that was close enough to love that he’d accept it. If she hurt him he’d probably just kill himself and be done with it all but for now…..he’d accept it.

“Hmm, she did,” Sansa smiled. “Perhaps we won’t feed her to Drogon after all.” Although she actually liked that idea.

“Oh no, she’s definitely going to die by dragonfire,” he said firmly. “But let’s not discuss such distasteful matters. I have something else in mind.”

“Oh?” she asked, smiling and blushing, grateful he couldn’t see it in the dark.

“Yes,” he said, as his hand stroked her breast. Her breath quickened, and she swallowed.

“New memories,” he said gently. “To replace the old.” He pulled her mouth down to his, his mind already planning how he’d make her moan until she cried his name. Until she smiled every time she thought of him, and grew wet every time she saw him.

Oh yes, he was going to be very good to Lady Lannister tonight.


	17. Chapter 17

At Sansa’s suggestion, the Queen ordered the fighting pit at Ghrazz and the Golden Pit to be filled with animals. “That way they’ll have a food source,” Sansa said. “And they won’t get hungry enough to harm anyone.” She hoped. But the Queen agreed and the two pits were filled with sheep, bulls, and goats.

“Thank you, Sansa,” the Queen smiled after Viserion had eaten at one of the pits and flown away. “I think this will help to keep the people calmer about their escape.”

But Rhaegal still lay in the Pit of Daznak, feverish and ill. Every day more of the herbed water was brought, and she drank it throughout the day, especially if there was a sheep or two added to it. But the wound didn’t heal, and the fever didn’t break.

“She’s not getting worse, but she’s not getting better either,” she sighed to the others at dinner, almost a week later.

“We need to get a poultice on that wound,” Brienne said firmly. The others nodded.

“I don’t know that she would let anyone touch it,” Sansa said, even as she knew they were right. “She gets nervous every time anyone comes into the pit, she won’t let anyone close enough to her to apply it.”

“Except you,” Theon said quietly.

Tyrion nodded. “The boy is right, love. You may have to do it yourself. You’re the only one who can get that close to her.”

Sansa knew they were right. Theon had found the recipe for a dragon poultice in the dragonkeeper’s journal. Sighing, she asked him to have it made. Then she and Tyrion practiced her High Valyrian. 

“You’re getting much better,” he said with a small smile as she glared at him in frustration. “And you understand quite a bit of it, even if your pronunciation is horrible.”

“I still can’t read it, and can barely speak it. But I can understand it. That’s useless,” she said disgustedly.

“Love, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Tyrion said. “Perhaps we should change our strategy, though.”

“What do you mean?”

He studied her thoughtfully. “One of the reasons you’re not picking it up as fast as the others is because you refuse to speak it.”

“As you’ve been so good as to point out, my pronunciation is horrible,” she said sarcastically.

Tyrion’s lips twitched at her obvious irritation. “Be that as it may, I think the best way for you to pick this up is to stop speaking Common Tongue. Starting tomorrow, you’ll only speak in High Valyrian. If you say something in Common Tongue, we won’t answer. I’ll make sure the others know.”

“That is a horrible idea,” Sansa complained.

“Perhaps. But we’re going to try it for a week. If at the end of that time we haven’t seen an obvious improvement, we’ll reconsider.”

“No,” Sansa said stubbornly.

“Yes,” Tyrion replied patiently. “And I’m not giving you a choice. If you don’t at least attempt to speak in High Valyrian, no one will speak to you. I will see to it.”

Sansa stared at him. “You wouldn’t.”

“Of course I would,” he smiled. “Come now, let’s get to bed. I have an early morning.”

The next more he rose with the sun, as was his habit. He was surprised to find Theon awake and eating. “What brings you up so early?” he asked.

“Trying to identify the herbs for the poultice,” Theon replied quietly. “To have it made.”

“Do you think it will help?” Tyrion asked him. The boy had read everything Tyrion had found about dragons, and gone hunting for more. He was quickly becoming the only living expert.

Theon only shrugged. “It’s been a long time.”

Tyrion nodded. It was his concern as well, that the infection was so bad that they simply wouldn’t be able to save her.

Sansa and Theon met with the Head Gardner and went into the market in the city to speak to some of the herb sellers. They also met with the Stable Master, who’d been overseeing the preparation of Rhaegal’s daily herbed water. They were all thrilled and afraid to assist with the care of the Queen’s dragon, but did so without complaint. In a few days, the poultice was ready.

Tyrion sat staring out over the balcony thoughtfully as they waited for the others to arrive, sipping from a cup of fruit juice. His lovely wife had asked him prettily – in stumbling High Valyrian – to stop drinking so much, and he was trying. Across from him, Sansa sat with a book, whispering words in High Valyrian. He was unaware of his smile. She was improving steadily. She still struggled but less and less every day. 

“Are you laughing at me?” Sansa demanded to know, stumbling some over the proper tense for ‘laugh’.

“No love,” Tyrion replied, in flawless High Valyrian. “I’m thinking how grateful I am that I had Varys send for you. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Oh,” she said, smiling herself. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

“Sansa, do you want children?”

She looked surprised. “Yes, of course. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said. “But we run the risk that they will be born with the same deformities that I have. I understand,” he said gently. “If you choose not to have my child, I understand. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone else.”

She thought about that. “Well,” she said after a long moment. “If our child is born with your deformity, it will have you to help guide it.” She said ‘deformity’ in Common Tongue, and Tyrion spent a moment teaching it to her in High Valyrian, then resumed their conversation.

“And you’re comfortable with that?”

“I think I am,” she said slowly. The more she thought of it, the more she realized she wanted to have children with Tyrion. He would be an excellent father, she was sure.

“Well, at least in Westeros we are rich,” he said lightly. “It’s always a help to have money.”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “I’d never thought about it before, but it certainly is a help.” She fell silent, frowning slightly at her book.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked curiously.

“I just wish….” She trailed off. “I almost wish we didn’t have to go back.”

He knew exactly what she meant. She’d said it before – he’d always be considered a kinslayer and a kingslayer, no matter the Queen’s pardon. Sansa would always be the traitor Ned Stark’s daughter. “Would you rather stay here?”

She shook her head immediately. “No. There’s nowhere else to go, I know. I just wish things could be different.”

“As do I,” he said heavily. “But we don’t face it alone.”

“We have each other,” she smiled.

“Lord and Lady Lannister, together. We’ll make the future our own.” They grinned together, inclining their cups towards the other in silent toast.

Brienne couldn’t help but smile when she came onto the balcony. She couldn’t explain how happy she was to see them happy. They each deserved it. She pushed the thought of her own happiness aside, content for the moment with theirs. Besides, she _was_ happy. “Are you ready?” she asked. “The boys are waiting for us.”

Tyrion, Theon, Brienne, and Sansa, along with the Stable Master, went into the pit. Rhaegal lay tiredly on her left side. She opened an eye when they came in. She’d become used to seeing them, and didn’t move or make a sound, although she did glance at the large vat of water the Stable Master was pushing on a wheeled pallet.

Sansa approached the dragon, and knelt near her long snout. Even with the herb soaked towels tied around her face, the smell was strong enough to make her eyes water. “We have to try something different,” she said softly. 

Rhaegal didn’t move, but she was listening. 

“Brienne and I are going to pour some of the warm water on your wound.” Rhaegal grumbled. “I know, but it’s not getting better,” Sansa explained. “So we’re going to wash it off with the water, and then I’m going to put this on it.” She gestured and Brienne brought over a bucket of yellowish paste. “It’s going to sting a little,” Sansa warned. “But it shouldn’t hurt more than it already does.” Sansa waited, but the dragon only closed her eyes. “Can you lift your wing for us?” Rhaegal didn’t move for a long moment, and then pushed back her wing on a hot, sour sigh.

Brienne, Theon, and the Stable Master pushed the vat over to Rhaegal’s side. This close the stench was nauseating. The wound was an ugly, long slash. Thick pus oozed from it, and the area around it as large as Sansa’s head was bare of scales, the skin puckered and blackened.

Theon dunked a bucked into the vat and handed it to Brienne, who poured it on the open wound. Rhaegal grumbled, but didn’t move as Brienne poured more and more of the water. Black water, brackish and sour, ran down the green scales. They’d almost emptied the vat before the water ran clear.

“The remaining scales here are loose,” Tyrion noted quietly. Sansa and Brienne nodded.

Sansa lifted the bucked of paste, and one of the small hand shovels the gardner had given them. “This is going to sting some,” she warned Rhaegal. But the dragon didn’t respond, and as the others pushed the almost empty vat away, Sansa began to apply the thick paste to the open wound.

Rhaegal rumbled, hissing out a stream of smoke, but otherwise didn’t move. Sansa had finished applying the thick paste along the open wound when she realized that Rhaegal was in pain. “No,” she said quickly. “It will pass. I told you it would sting, remember?”

But Rhaegal didn’t remember, and rolled restlessly at the increasing burn of the paste. She pushed herself up, spreading her wings with a loud _whoosh!_ that knocked Sansa backward, sending her falling into the bloody medicinal water in the trough. Brienne, Theon, and Tyrion all rushed to assist her out as Rhaegal roared in pain.

“ _Rhaegal!_ ” Sansa yelled. The dragon was twisting and turning, trying to remove the poultice from her wound, which was rapidly drying and tightening painfully against the already tender and infected skin. She beat her wings relentlessly, trying to stretch and dislodge the medicine. Dust flew and formed thick clouds, sending them all staggering and coughing. Sansa leaned against the sun warmed wall, struggling to breath amidst the thick dust, trying to calm Rhaegal. She tried to sooth her but the dragon was in pain and angry. The wall beneath her hand shifted suddenly, and she found a finger hold to keep her balance. And the she felt the wall move, and her with it, as Rhaegal sprang into the sky. Sansa screamed in alarm, and thought she heard Tyrion frantically yell her name. She glanced down but couldn’t see the ground for the dust that had risen. It couldn’t be that far, could it? And then Rhaegal turned, angling, and sending Sansa sliding down and across her long neck. She managed to grab the edge of a scale to stop her fall, then found another with one foot.

“Rhaegal!” she cried. “Rhaegal go back!”

But Rhaegal wasn’t listening. She was angry that she’d trusted Sansa to get close to her, and as a result was in more pain. She wanted the burning pain to stop, and she knew just how to do it.

Sansa gasped horror. “Rhaegal! No!” she screamed. She scrambled to find another hand hold and wedged her foot between two loose scales. Then she took a deep breath as Rhaegal dove into the ocean.

Sansa felt like she’d been hit on her head with a rock. Forgetting the water, she screamed, then choked. She lost her grip and slid off of Rhaegal’s neck, flung backward by the force of the impact, only her wedged foot keeping her from floating away. Sharp pain spiked in her foot and knee. Sensing it, Rhaegal slowed her descent, then angled to catch Sansa against her neck and then rose to the surface. Sansa coughed and vomited water, collapsing against Rhaegal’s neck.

“Go back,” Sansa said weakly. “Take me back. Please.”

Rhaegal wasn’t ready to go back. She skimmed along the surface of the water, the land at her back. Sansa kept her eyes closed, resting against the warm scales beneath her cheek. Her head, neck, knee, ankle, and foot throbbed, and she was nauseated. She dozed lightly until Rhaegal lifted to the sky again. The dragon was tired and wanted to rest. The burning was easing. She flew until she reached land, then settled on a grassy plain as the sun set, both sleeping restlessly.

Tyrion sat unmoving on the balcony, staring at the sky. Beside him a plate of food sat untouched. But the wine had been refilled three times.

“Rhaegal will be back,” the Queen had assured him confidently. “They always come back to me. And Sansa can speak to her, surely she’ll tell her to return.”

But they hadn’t returned. All through the night and into the dawn he sat, unmoving, feeling his fragile hope that life was worth living drain away.

“Lord Tyrion,” Brienne said softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

It was a long moment before he responded. “Lady Brienne.” His voice was rough.

She sat silently across from him, her eyes searching the sky as well, until one of the girls sat a plate of food before her. She took a bite, then sighed and pushed the food around on her plate.

A loud roar had them both jumping up from their seats. Brienne, being taller, saw it first. “It’s the black one.” Disappointment laced her voice.

Tyrion’s shoulders slumped, and he returned to his chair but didn’t sit, only stood staring at the seat. He wished he could be angry and uncaring, but he couldn’t. He missed her, and was terrified that something would happen to her.

“The Queen is right, you know,” Brienne said gently. “They always come back.”

Tyrion didn’t speak. Slowly, he returned to the balcony rail, resting his head against it. “She’s also right that Sansa can speak to them. Surely, she would have urged Rhaegal home by now, if she wanted to return.”

“Rhaegal is sick and still feverish,” Brienne reminded him. “Remember how long it took Sansa to get her here initially? I doubt she’s gone far.” She studied the small man. “What makes you think Sansa wouldn’t want to return?”

Tyrion turned, and Brienne saw anguish on his face. “Why would she? What is there for her here? She’s already said she doesn’t really want to return to Westeros.”

Brienne smiled gently. Did he not know? “No, she doesn’t want to go back to King’s Landing,” she agreed. “But wherever she goes, she plans to go with you. She’ll come back because of you. She adores you. She thinks you’re the smartest man alive, and the kindest. She’s looking forward to seeing Casterly Rock, and perhaps finding her brothers, and starting a family. She has no desire to leave you, especially not riding a sick dragon with nothing but the clothes on her back.”

Tyrion wanted desperately to believe her. He knew that she and Sansa were close, and spoke often. Could Sansa truly care for him? What if Rhaegal dropped her and she plummeted to the ground, or drowned? A dozen scenarios ran through his mind, and all of them sounded far more plausible that the idea that Sansa loved him and wanted to return and build a life with him.

Turning, he left the balcony, taking the jug of wine with him. Although the sun was rising, he was going to lay down, and pray the gods would allow the wine to cloud his brain enough that he wouldn’t dream.


	18. Chapter 18

Sansa lost track of the days as Rhaegal flew. Her head pounded unceasingly, and her ankle throbbed where it remained wedged between the scales. Nausea swarmed through her. She couldn’t open her eyes because the bright sunlight hurt her head. Rhaegal also grew increasingly feverish as the untreated infection raged on. She dunked herself and Sansa full force into the ocean two additional times, leaving Sansa feeling as if she couldn’t move at all. Finally, Rhaegal found a plain that smelled strongly of the herbs in the water Sansa had given her, and settled in it. She nibbled on the herbs but they were bitter, and she gave up and slept. 

Sansa heard voices. She cracked open her eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight. The voice called to her again, and Rhaegal rumbled in reply. Sansa tried to focus but her vision was blurred, her lips dry and cracked. Her arms were so heavy, and her stomach rumbled with hunger, mixed with the nausea. The voice came again, words she knew but couldn’t seem to understand. And then another voice, inside her head. A dragon. Intensely intelligent and curious, wondering if she were alright, if she needed anything. 

Rhaegal rumbled again, fire spitting from her towards the unidentified voices. A stream of lavender blue fire came towards them, and Sansa tried weakly to dodge it but Rhaegal was faster, moving swiftly. Sansa saw a blur of purple, violet wings spread wide, and heard the angry roar. He was offended and angry, wondering why he was being attacked.

The two dragons circled each other, as the human voice continued to call out to her, but Sansa was too weak to reply. Rhaegal shot into the sky, the purple dragon following her. They soared through the clouds, and Sansa felt the other dragon’s concern. He could sense Sansa’s illness, and smell Rhaegal’s. He didn’t want to leave them alone, worried that some harm would befall them. Rhaegal simply flew, trying to get away from the unfamiliar dragon, whom she considered a threat. But she was ill and tired and soon settled on a rocky beach. The purple dragon followed, staying a small distance away.

For days they flew over land and water, and then just water. Sansa grew weaker and weaker, as did Rhaegal. She stopped often, and often skimmed the top of the water to cool her still aching side. But it gave water to Sansa, who struggled to lift her head. She slept longer and longer, and Rhaegal stopped as often as she could, on rocky strips of land, leaving the purple dragon circling above for hours or days, until Rhaegal lifted to the skies again.

Soon Sansa could open her eyes to the sun, and the pain in her head and neck receded some, although she was weak from hunger and often found herself gagging and vomiting stomach bile, especially in the mornings. She thought of Tyrion and the life she’d hoped they’d build, a life of laughter and children. Perhaps her brothers. Maybe even Arya, wherever she was. When the Queen took Westeros, life would have returned to some semblance of normalcy, although it would be impossible to escape the stigma of her father’s assumed actions, and for Tyrion to escape the mantles of kinslayer and kingslayer would be impossible. How would that affect their children, she wondered? How would their parent’s histories shape their lives?

Day after day, they flew. One morning Sansa glanced down and realized the water had changed. Rhaegal and the purple dragon – whom she’d named Jewel – noticed it as well. It was bright aquamarine, so clear they could see the fish swimming below the surface. Rhaegal was so weak she was flying low above the water, with Jewel hovering just behind. None of them knew how much further Rhaegal could go, and Jewel was wondering how to save them. He was trying to convince Rhaegal to lie on his back, but both he and Sansa wondered how he’d bear the additional weight.

Sansa woke when Jewel called to her, and squinted in the sunlight. Was that land ahead? Her vision was still blurred, but Rhaegal and Jewel saw it too. Long and tall, with mountains on both ends. Land. Sansa smiled weakly. Finally, Rhaegal had returned home. She couldn’t wait to see Tyrion and Brienne and Pod, and even Theon. And the Queen. She closed her eyes again and drifted to sleep, certain that when she woke Tyrion would be beside her.

Jewel flew ahead, hoping to find help. He knew that this wasn’t his home, and assumed it was theirs. Just across the first mountain range he found a huge field. A river ran through it, and several small animals were scampering through the tall grass. In the not so far distance he saw tall buildings and smaller ones, and a tall waterfall rushing down the side of a mountain. This would do.

He coaxed and prodded Rhaegal over the mountains, and finally she collapsed into the tall, sweet smelling grass. The jarring landing woke Sansa from her sleep, sending pain spiking through her body. She forced herself to push up onto her elbows, her head spinning at the motion.

What city was that? She’d never seen it before. To her badly blurred vision it looked like white marble. Had Tyrion ever mentioned a city made of marble? She couldn’t remember, her head throbbed and her stomach rolled. Pain spiked in her neck and shoulders and she collapsed against Rhaegal’s neck again, moaning. Where were they?

A soft voice answered her. _This is our home._

Sansa raised her head and looked around. A huge reddish orange dragon, even larger than Drogon, landed gracefully beside them, folding her massive wings daintily. 

Sansa blinked as she realized there were other dragons as well, circling and settling themselves at the edge of the field. Her brain felt fuzzy but she could hear the soft buzz of wonder at two dragons that had never been seen before.

“Where are we?” Sansa whispered.

_Your kind calls this Riverside, on Lysos,_ the large dragon replied. _You are in need of the healer. I will send for her._ One of the other, smaller dragons rose into the sky, heading towards the city.

Jewel looked at the other dragons curiously, but without surprise. Sansa realized that this was all unfamiliar to him, as well. Where was he from, if not here?

Immediately images filled her mind of tall mountains, some still warm with lava, and ruined cities where monsters lurked in the shadows. A few people and dragons remained there, living in the mountains. They weren’t a large community, but they managed, hiding from the horrors that had roamed the streets for centuries. While there was a certain raw beauty to his home, it wasn’t like this – lush fields, filled with flowers and bushes, tall trees that smelled of fruit. The river, wide and filled with jumping fish. The majestic mountains. And the beautiful white city that sat on the river banks.

She didn’t know how long it was before she felt gentle hands on her ankle. The tall woman spoke in soothing tones. Sansa couldn’t understand her, although she vaguely recognized the words. The woman and another man got her ankle free, while Jewel and the orange dragon soothed Rhaegal, who was nervous of people she didn’t know. They helped her slide off of Rhaegal’s neck onto a portable bed, and took her away. Rhaegal protested, but the other dragons comforted her and she settled, although her eyes followed the cart that Sansa was in until it was out of sight.

Sansa didn’t remember much of the next week. She was bathed and put into a comfortable bed, her ankle and neck secured so that she couldn’t move them, and given broth and water to sip at regular intervals. Her stomach had trouble adapting, and she still vomited regularly, especially in the mornings. But soon she began to feel a little stronger. 

After the first week she realized the language they were speaking was High Valyrian, and she was able to whisper a few words, to the healer’s delight. She still slept often, but Rhaegal was well, and that helped her to rest easier. The large orange dragon that still spoke to her so clearly was taking care of the dragon, urging her to eat the herbs that would help her to heal. The poultice had done its job and the wound was healing nicely, according to Dev, who was the local healer.

Soon, Sansa was well enough to ask questions. “Where is Lysos?” she asked Dev, who shrugged.

“Here,” she said.

Sansa tried another route. “How far are we from Essos?”

Dev looked at her strangely. “I have never heard of that place.”

“Westeros?”

Dev shook her head. “I will send a scholar to you,” she said. “One of the historical librarians. Perhaps they can answer your questions.”

But Sansa’s stomach remained rebellious, and she struggled to keep food down, especially in the mornings. Dev was patient with her, giving her dried crackers and teas to help soothe it, and broth later in the day when it settled. “I will be so happy when this is over,” Sansa complained to Dev, who smiled.

“That may be several weeks more,” she said gently. “Hopefully, the sickness will pass soon. It is amazing the child survived your journey.” 

Sansa stared at her in confusion, wondering if she’d misunderstood. And then her mind registered the full implication of Dev’s words. Her hands lifted to her stomach. “We’re having a baby,” she whispered, awed.

Only seconds later, her spirits fell. She had no idea of where she was, or where Tyrion was. She was alone, in an unfamiliar place. How would she manage with a child? What would she do?


	19. Chapter 19

Her recovery was slow, hampered by the morning sickness. The concussion had been severe, according to Dev, and her vision remained blurred, and she was prone to terrible headaches. But Dev assured her that the baby was fine.

The dragons circled overhead all day, checking on her, asking how she was doing. Dev, assuming they wanted her, let her sit in the large back yard of the medical facility she was at. Rhaegal landed first, laying her snout at her Sansa’s feet and rumbling softly.

_She’s been very worried about you,_ the large orange dragon chuckled, settling beside her.

Gingerly, Sansa reached down and rubbed Rhaegal’s green snout. “Thank you for taking such good care of her,” Sansa said with a soft smile.

_Of course. She’s a delight, actually._

“Hopefully, I’ll be well soon.” Rhaegal raised her head suddenly, pushing Sansa back in her chair and nuzzling her belly, sniffing loudly.

_Oh,_ the orange dragon said in surprise. _A small-ling._

Sansa nodded, grinning softly. “Yes,” she said. She realized that the other patients around her were talking softly, watching her. Sansa blushed, and looked to Dev.

“Are they afraid of the dragons?” Several of them had landed on the grass, including Jewel and the orange dragon, both of whom are very large.

Dev was looking at her with something akin to awe. “No,” she said. “They don’t bother us, and we don’t bother them. But you’re speaking to them.”

Sansa blushed again. “Yes,” she said. “It’s an ability I’ve developed.”

“Oh,” Dev said softly, then excused herself, reminding Sansa to limit her movements.

The dragons all crept nearer, and Sansa smiled and spoke to them. She asked their names but they didn’t have them, so she spent a pleasant hour deciding what to call them. She called the large orange-reddish one Lava. The dragon was pleased with that. _I am the Eldest,_ she told Sansa. _Therefore I am the only one to speak._

“Alright,” Sansa said. “Have any of you ever heard of Essos? Or Westeros?”

Lava thought for a moment. _Those words seem familiar,_ she said. _I may have heard them before, a long time ago._

“That’s where we’re from,” Sansa explained. “I’m trying to get home.”

_I have a feeling you will not be leaving anytime soon. Especially with the small-ling. Neither of you are well enough for a long journey, it will be some time before you are._

“I have to get home because of the baby,” Sansa explained. “I need to get back to my husband.”

Lava watched her skeptically. _I do not know if that will be possible. Perhaps you should discuss it with you healer._

After an hour Sansa was exhausted, and one of the staff assisted her back to her room. Lava urged Rhaegal to the skies and they went back to the valley where they resided. She was very content there, with the other dragons, even though she wanted to be closer to Sansa.

When Dev came to check on her the next day, she brought an older man with her. He had a kind face, and a smile that made Sansa instinctively smile in return.

“My Lady, this is one of our Elders, Missou Rotan. I believe he can answer your questions about where you are from.”

Sansa’s smile widened. “Hello,” she said politely.

“Good afternoon to you, My Lady.” He pulled a chair beside her bed and sat quietly while Dev completed her brief examination.

“You and the babe are well,” Dev smiled. “Keep down as much as you can. I’ll check on you later.” She left the room quietly.

“Well, my lady,” the scholar smiled. “Dev tells me you are from Essos?”

“Westeros,” she said. “But my husband and I were on Essos. Have you heard of it?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes, in our histories from a long, long, time ago,” he said. “Our ancestors were from Essos, the southernmost tip. Valyria.”

Sansa nodded. “That explains the dragons,” she said. She knew that the dragons had originated in Valyria. Tyrion would be fascinated. At the thought of him, a wave of sadness washed over her. She _had_ to get back to him. She and their child.

“It is an unusual ability, that you speak with the dragons,” he said kindly. “Have you always done so?”

Sansa shook her head. “We don’t have dragons in Westeros,” she explained.

“Really?” Elder Rotan seemed surprised. “I thought one of the lesser houses had gone there with their dragons.”

“Yes, the Targaryen’s,” Sansa nodded. “But their dragons died out well over a century ago. But the last of them, Daenerys, the Queen of Meereen, was given three old dragon eggs and she hatched them. One of them is Rhaegal, who came with me.” She hesitated a moment, then continued. “My family, we have a connection with our direwolves. Although it is nothing as intense as what I have with the dragons. I can sense their thoughts and feelings, and share mine. The oldest of these, the largest of them, she speaks to me very clearly. That hadn’t happened before.” She stumbled over many of the words, and by the time she was done she was tiring.

“I won’t keep you, I know that you need your rest,” the Elder said, rising. “Perhaps I’ll come speak with you tomorrow?”

“Oh, so soon?” Sansa was dismayed. “I had hoped we could discuss my going home.”

“I don’t believe you’ll be strong enough to leave just yet,” he said with a small smile. “And to be honest My Lady, you are the first person we’ve seen in centuries. We’re rather isolated here. Our histories tell us that the other lands are not so very far from each other, but our ancestors got lost and ended up here. Many of them died in the journey. Those who survived settled and spread out and went about the business of living on land again. A few made their way to the nearby islands, and there are thriving populations there, as well. But we know little of the land before, and we’ve no idea of where it is or how to get there.” He patted her hand when he saw her disappointment. “Don’t worry child, I’m sure your dragons know how to get home. They tend to be aware of these things. It’s only that your green one was ill that you ended up here at all. Rest,” he urged. “We’ll speak again soon.”

Sansa settled back against the pillows, staring out the window to the beautiful garden beyond. Rhaegal was soaring over the mountains with Jewel, exploring, although she was beginning to tire. Did she know how to get home? She believed she did, but Jewel definitely did. The thought cheered her. As soon as she was well, she and the dragons would return home. Jewel wanted to see their home before he returned to his. He wanted to meet her Tyrion and Brienne, and the Queen she thought of so fondly. Then he’d return to his rider, who he knew must be very worried about him, because he’d been gone so long. But he wanted to bring his rider here, and also to her home, and hoped she’d help him communicate that.

After assuring him that she would, Sansa closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, smiling, with her hand on her still flat stomach. _Soon, little one. Soon we’ll be back with your father and everything will be fine._

Brienne climbed out of the bathing pool, drying herself briskly and then returning to her room, where she sat on the edge of her bed, gazing out at the sky.

Sansa and Rhaegal had been gone for almost three months. No one wanted to admit that they might not be coming back. Rhaegal had been so sick, and without treatment it was highly unlikely that she were still alive. And Sansa…..she could be dead as well. But Brienne prayed to the gods that she was alive, lost and trying to get back to Meereen.

Ser Barriston had put her to work helping to train the Unsullied soldiers, and she spent her days with them, learning their ways and teaching them her sword skills. Already they were learning how to fight against men with swords, and she was learning how to fight against men with spears. The constant physical exercise was good for her, it kept her from thinking for too long. Until night fell, and she was alone, as she so often was. Lord Tyrion had taken to keeping Theon with him, and kept Pod busy running errands. Of course, Brienne had the household to run but that honestly wasn’t much, the servants knew what they were doing. Without Sansa, Brienne was feeling purposeless. Theon had taken over the care of the other two dragons, such that it was, and honestly Brienne wouldn’t want to do that anyway. Which leaves the question; what _did_ she want?

Ser Barriston assured her that she could have a position in the army, most likely a General. He also said there was a place for her on the Queensguard, if she wanted it. But she didn’t want to wage war on Westeros, and she definitely didn’t want to take the white, because she wanted to marry someday, and have children who would hopefully not look like their mother. Of course, first she’d have to find a man who was interested in her. She pushed away those thoughts, and the image of Jamie Lannister’s face. She wouldn’t think of him, because there was nothing to think of.

But despite her personal loneliness, she could admit that she was happier than she’d been in a long time. Lord Tyrion was kind – although his sadness deepened every day that Sansa didn’t return – and the boys had become friends, although she was still a little uncertain of Theon. As he became more secure he showed glimpses of being someone she wasn’t sure she liked. The Queen was wonderful, and Brienne felt honored to serve her. She was exactly what Westeros needed. But like Sansa, Brienne wasn’t certain she wanted to return to Westeros. There was nothing for her there except other people’s expectations of what her life should be. She loved her father and knew that he loved her, but she’d never be the daughter he wanted or the heir he needed.

Without Sansa here, she’d been thinking more and more about what she wanted to do. She had a feeling she’d stay in the Free Cities. She and Lord Tyrion had spoken briefly of his time in Braavos, and Pentos. Perhaps she’d travel a bit. She’d be lonely, she knew. Perhaps Theon would come with her, he didn’t want to return to Westeros either. Lying down, she decided to speak to him about it the next time she saw him. The Queen had her hands full now, but she fully planned to take the Iron Throne. They might as well start thinking about their futures.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for going MIA, I haven’t been feeling well. But I’m back!!! ❤️

Sansa smiled and thanked the man who helped her into the carriage. Dev smiled at her other side. “I thought you would enjoy an open carriage.”

“It’s wonderful, thank you,” Sansa grinned. The sun was warm and the sky clear. Although her vision still blurred slightly, it was improving steadily. She could hold her head and neck up unassisted, but she still tired easily. Her stomach was just beginning to swell, and the morning sickness had finally eased, so Dev had released her. Elder Rotan had assured her that as the Mistress of Dragons, there was a residence waiting for her that she could use as long as she chose to stay. That’s where they were heading now.

The city was even more beautiful than she’d thought. White buildings, tall and wide, short and narrow, all with colorful window shutters, were everywhere. Shops and outdoor restaurants lined the streets, along with street vendors with carts, calling out the day’s wares. Throngs of people walked the streets, or sat laughing with friends, or rode the strange four-legged creature that closely resembled horses, but were wider. Children laughed, running through the streets to assemble in a wide, open field where they could play. The smells were wonderful, of herbs and fruits and food. Pots of brightly colored flowers were set in small intervals along the cobbled stone streets. The rode alongside the river for a long while, the dragons soaring overhead, and then crossed one of the wide stone bridges and followed a curved road out into the countryside. It wasn’t long at all until they reached a wide white three storied house with a brightly tiled roof. Each floor had a wide balcony, and the top had a tall black gate that made her think she could sit up there, which would place her closer to eye level with the dragons. Surrounded on three sides by large fields of grass and wildflowers, the back of the house faced the river at an angle. In the distance, the tall waterfall that fed the river was visible. 

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Sansa gasped as the pulled into the curved path before the door.

“Yes, it is,” Dev agreed, gently removing the blanket that had covered Sansa’s legs and jumping lightly from the carriage, while the driver came to help Sansa down. As they walked to the tall wooden door, it opened and Elder Rotan appeared, smiling broadly.

“Welcome home, My Lady,” he said, gesturing her in.

The house was wide and filled with light from the floor length windows. The furniture was of light woods, the floors covered in beautiful tiles of while inlaid with gold and sapphires lines. Tall plants and flowers were scattered around the rooms. On the right, a large staircase hugged the wall, curving upwards. She could see brightly colored rugs and blankets on furniture that was soft pastel in color.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” she breathed, eyes wide. She wanted to see the house, so Dev and Elder Rotan walked with her. She met the kitchen staff, and the maids and saw the dining room and library, which instantly made her think of Tyrion. 

“Our ancestors didn’t have many books when they arrived,” Elder Rotan told her. “These have been written here.”

“My husband would be fascinated,” she smiled sadly. She missed him terribly, and couldn’t wait to get back to him. But she was already beginning to feel weak from being up so long, so they made their way slowly up the stairs to the second level, to the bedrooms. Hers was at the end of a long hall, with deep blue double doors carved with dragons. The room itself was wide and open, with a large bed, a tall fireplace on one side, a desk, and a bay of windows with their curtains thrown open, and a pair of glass double doors that were open as well. She could see the dragons looking inside, and smiled to them.

A beautiful young woman with long wavy dark hair and soft brown eyes was waiting for them. “Hello, My Lady,” she curtsied. “I am Malla, I am your attendant.” 

“Hello, Malla,” Sansa smiled, then yawned widely.

_Rest,_ Lava urged, just as Dev spoke.

“You need to rest, My Lady. Why don’t you lie down? You can see the rest of the house when you wake.”

Sansa agreed, and allowed Malla to help her into bed for a nap. When she woke the sun was setting, and she was hungry. Although Malla offered to being her food, she decided to go downstairs. She ate dinner on the patio, overlooking the river in the fading daylight. Rhaegal was flying nearby, along with Jewel – the two had become almost inseparable – and one of the other dragons she’d named Sapphire, for his vivid color. They were looking for dinner, and Rhaegal and Jewel assured her they’d be back before long, fully intending to sleep on her lawn.

Over the next few weeks she settled in to life in Riverside. She met the Dragon Riders, a group of twelve men and women whom the dragons had chosen. They couldn’t communicate with the dragons, but like Jewel and his rider, the dragons had allowed them to ride. Elder Rotan and a few other members of the Elder’s Council came by regularly, along with Dev. But she missed Tyrion and Brienne, and wanted desperately to go home. She still tired easily, and her vision was still blurred, and she occasionally had headaches. Dev told her that it could be a long while before she was completely well. “Your head injury was severe,” she said. “You must allow yourself time to recover, or you may never fully heal. These things take time. I know you want to go home, but I worry that you will not survive the trip in your current condition., and there is the baby to consider.”

“I don’t want to have my baby here,” Sansa said, frustration lacing her words. “I need to get back to my husband. I cannot stay much longer, we have to go.”

But Rhaegal agreed with them. She didn’t know that she could make the journey, as she still tired easily as well, and her side still ached when she flew too long. The wound had healed and the remaining scales tightened, but the area around the scar was still tender. She knew Sansa wanted to go home, and she did too. But she wanted to wait until she felt stronger. She was still guilt ridden that she’d hurt Sansa while she’d been ill, and wanted to make sure that it didn’t happen again.

So Sansa rested, and she and Malla went into the city to shop and eat. It was a gorgeous place, and more than anything Sansa wished she and Tyrion could make their lives there. The people rained gifts on she and the baby, simply because she could talk to the dragons. She was often asked if one of the dragons would assist someone with tasks, and the dragons usually didn’t mind, although their idea of time was different that hers. They came when they wanted, and left when they wanted. The Dragon Riders took she and Rhaegal out for small trips, and now that she had the specially made saddle to hold her into place the trips were more comfortable.

It was on one of those trips that she felt another dragon, one she hadn’t sensed before. She looked around, but didn’t see her, then instructed Rhaegal and Sunset to land.

“What’s wrong?” Toren, Sunset’s rider asked worriedly. “Are you ill?”

“No, I’m fine,” she assured him. “I just…” she looked around. “There’s another dragon here. I wanted to say hello to her, but….” She looked again, at the tall trees, the wide field, the sparkling water. “I don’t see her.”

“Perhaps she is hiding?” Toren asked skeptically. 

Sunset saw her first. She was in the water, just below the surface. Sansa knelt on the bank, smiling. “Hello,” she said.

The dragon rose to the surface, her head breaking cleanly through the water to eye Sansa curiously. She was a beautiful blue gray, with gray eyes, and two small horns on either side of her head. “You’re a water dragon,” Sansa said happily. “Oh, you’re beautiful!”

The dragon preened, rumbling appreciatively. Sunset and Rhaegal both agreed that she was lovely, as did Toren, coming to kneel beside Sansa.

“Are there other water dragons here?” Sansa asked thoughtfully.

The dragon assured her there were several.

“Do you fly as well?” she asked.

In response the dragon submerged and then shot into the air, raining water down on them. She soared gracefully in a lazy circle, then landed on the opposite bank and slid back into the water as Sansa laughed in delight.

They stayed a little longer, until Sansa began to tire. As they soared through the skies returning to the beautiful house, Sansa was able to appreciate the beauty of Lysos from above. She could be happy here, she realized. No one knew her family, she was judged solely on her abilities. And Tyrion….he would be named an Elder, she was sure. He would be well respected, and here his intellect could shine, without the tarnish of the Lannister history. Even Brienne could find a place here, she was sure. Pod and Theon…she wasn’t as sure of them. Pod might want to come, but Theon wouldn’t. And she didn’t think he should. Besides, with all of the research he’d been doing on dragons, the Queen might want to keep him close. And even if he returned to Westeros, who cared if Theon told Ramsey where they went? With them here what happened on Westeros couldn’t touch them. Besides, once the Queen took the Iron Throne, the Bolton’s wouldn’t matter anyway. None of them would.

This could be the perfect home for she and Tyrion, if only she could get back to him.


	21. Chapter 21

Tyrion looked up as the door opened softly. 

“Did you sleep at all, My Lord?” Pod asked with a small smile.

“I suppose I didn’t,” Tyrion said with a return smile, closing his book. “I gather it’s time I should wipe my face and get something to eat, eh?” He slid out of his chair, heading to the wash basin as Pod pulled out his clothes.

Somehow he managed to put one foot in front of the other, all day. The Yunkai’i army was trying to invade, and they had to prepare. The nobles were still grumbling. The murders still happened all night. Thankfully Viserion had responded well to Theon’s attempts to train her, although Drogon ignored all efforts.

He had dinner with the Queen and Barriston Selmy. She was considering a suggestion made by one of the nobles, to take a Meeereenese noble as her husband. Barriston was firmly against the idea but Tyrion saw the merit of it. “Perhaps a small test, of his loyalty,” he’d said.

“What type of test?” the Queen asked curiously.

Tyrion shrugged. “I’m sure we could think of something.” She nodded, her beautiful face troubled. Tyrion did not envy her position, but he also didn’t doubt her abilities. This beautiful young Queen was thoughtful and kind, and exactly what Westeros needed. His mind flickered to what he needed, and he pushed Sansa’s face from his mind, even as his heart twisted and his stomach churned. His worst thought was that she was out there somewhere, alone and vulnerable. She’d been through enough at the hands of Bolton. What he’d wanted most was to spoil and pamper her as she so deserved.

Finally the day was over and he returned to his rooms, fully intending to actually find his bed. But he noticed Lady Brienne on the balcony, her face raised to the sky. He hesitated, and then made his way through the double doors. “Lady Brienne,” he said.

She started, looking over her shoulder with a smile. “Lord Tyrion. Hello.” She returned to her contemplation of the sky.

“Is everything alright, my lady?” he asked hesitantly.

“As well as it can be,” she said. He heard the smile in her voice.

He nodded, understanding. Just as he was about to turn away, she spoke again.

“I must to decide what to do with myself.”

“Ah,” he said. “Yes.” He moved slowly to stand beside her at the rail. “I know that Ser Barriston has offered you a position in the army, but that’s not what you want.”

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “I don’t want to wage war on Westeros. I understand the need for it, but I’ve no actual desire to participate.”

“What would you do, if you could do whatever you wanted?” he asked, his gaze drawn to the sky as Viserion soared overhead. His stomach twisted as it always did when he saw one of the dragons.

Brienne shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’ve enjoyed assisting Lady Sansa, more than I thought. She’s so smart, far moreso than she gives herself credit for. She’s going to do something fantastic one day, I know it.” She stopped suddenly, realizing that she was talking about his wife. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, glancing at him. The sadness in his eyes tugged at her heart.

Tyrion blinked back his tears. They came unexpectedly these last few months. “I told myself,” he sighed. Then shook his head. “I’ll think on possibilities for you,” he said abruptly, turning away.

“You told yourself what?” Brienne asked curiously. “That you wouldn’t miss her?”

Tyrion stopped, his shoulders drooping a bit. “That I wouldn’t love her,” he said quietly, wondering why he was answering at all. “That I wouldn’t care for her. I’d do my duty and ensure she was safe. That was all.”

Brienne nodded understandingly. “It’s hard not to love her,” she agreed. “She’s so young, and so afraid. And so very, very, brave. It’s hard to not at least admire her fortitude.”

A sad smile crept across his face. “Yes.”

“I was sure they’d be back by now,” Brienne blurted. “And now….every day that they’re gone…” her voice broke, and she stopped.

“Every day that they’re gone, it is less likely that they’ll return,” Tyrion said heavily, moving to sit in one of the padded chairs. “After Lord Tywin sentenced me to death, I didn’t want to care about anyone. I _wanted_ to die. And then, she was here and suddenly, the world wasn’t so awful. And now,” he gestured helplessly.

“And now we’re trying to figure out what to do with ourselves,” Brienne said quietly, coming to sit beside him.

Tyrion felt the tears come and turned his head away from her. He could hear her sniffles and knew that she was crying as well. It was a comfort somehow, to sit and cry with someone who felt the same sense of loss.

“If it’s any help,” she said softly. “I know what it is to lose someone, after you’d said that you’d never trust love again. I know that pain.”

Tyrion studied her. He’d become accustomed to her face, but her size and appearance were as much a deformity as his. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I suppose you do.”

They sat in companionable silence for a long while, each unconsciously searching the skies for a sign of Rhaegal and Sansa. But the sky remained an inky black, broken only by the glimmer of stars. Finally, Tyrion said goodnight, leaving Brienne alone with the night sky and a mind full of Jamie Lannister.


	22. Chapter 22

The days drug into weeks, and the weeks into months. As much as Sansa loved her life on Lysos, she was desperate to get home. The baby was growing larger and larger every day, and every time she felt movement, her eyes would well with tears. Tyrion should be with her, sharing all of this with her. The home, and the beauty. Their child, growing healthily, according to Dev. The respect of the Elders and people. She _had_ to go home.

“Please My Lady, you must be patient,” Dev said. “You _will_ go home. But you’re not strong enough yet.”

“I’ve been here for months,” Sansa said in frustration. “I need to go before the baby is born.” But the next morning she woke with a headache so bad that she couldn’t leave her bed, or tolerate light or food. It was days before it passed, leaving her weak, and her vision badly blurred for days longer. She didn’t mention leaving again.

But she created a good life for herself. She and the dragons visited the islands on the far side of the continent. She had the dragons assist with building a bridge over a deep ravine, and one of the small dragons, Ivory, was able to rescue a man who’d fallen in. She was also able to mediate a dispute between the dragons and a group of farmers on the far side of the continent, who didn’t realize that the reason the dragons continuously attacked their flock is because they were grazing too near a clutch of eggs. Once the farmers knew, they moved their flock elsewhere. She told one of the coastal cities that the dragons were requesting that they not expand their city into a large field where the dragons liked to rest.

“Our life here is dependent on a balance between the dragons and ourselves,” Elder Toren told her. “With your help, we can ensure a continued successful cohabitation.”

Lava also showed her the eggs in the smaller valley near her home, where many of the dragons made their lairs. _We hope to have more one day,_ she told Sansa as she admired the beautiful eggs, all in stunning swirls of color. She counted 17. But one of the eggs was damaged, she noticed.

 _Yes,_ Lava said sadly, looking at the pink and yellow egg that was smashed on one side. _We do not know what happened. I doubt it will survive._

But Sansa sensed a strong intellect inside the egg, almost as sharp as Jewel and Midnight, who were by far the most intelligent of the dragons. “I think it will,” she told Lava. “And I think he’s going to hatch very soon.” The heat inside the cave was broiling and she had to leave soon, but the thought of the damaged egg stayed with her. She wasn’t surprised when a week later, Lava and Midnight settled on her lawn with a tiny soft pink and yellow dragon riding on Midnight’s back.

“Oh, hello,” Sansa smiled. The tiny dragon watched her curiously, as Lava expressed again her uncertainty that the small dragon would survive.

 _It is so small,_ she said. _Unnaturally so._

But Sansa was certain the dragon would be fine, and promptly named him Sunrise. She kept him with her for a few weeks, feeding him from her own kitchen, and her staff all loved the tiny dragon that rode on her shoulder. One day he decided to go out with Midnight, and from that point on his visits inside the house were more sporadic although it wasn’t unusual to find the pretty dragon nestled in a chair in Sansa’s sitting room, or in the kitchen begging the staff for scraps.

Finally, as the birth grew close, Dev said that once the baby was old enough to travel, she could leave. Both she and Rhaegal had recovered. Sansa’s vision had fully cleared and her headaches were infrequent. “It’s something you may struggle with for a very long time,” Dev said. But it had been months since the last bad one. 

With Elder Rotan, Dev, and Lava, she developed a plan. “I fully intend to return,” she told the Elders Council. “But I must go get my husband.”

“We look forward to meeting Lord Tyrion in person,” Elder Albrecht said with a wide smile. “We’ve heard so much about him that I feel as if I know him already.”

“We’ll send a few things with you to pique his interest,” Elder Horeh said. “A book of our history, perhaps. A few jewels?” he wondered.

“Definitely jewels,” Elder Rotan said firmly. “We cannot send the Mistress of Dragons with no currency. You can use the jewels to tempt Lord Tyrion, and as currency in case of an emergency.”

“If we have an emergency, I don’t know that currency would be of any help,” Sansa grinned. “I don’t recall seeing much in the way of land, and neither do Rhaegal or Jewel.” She was so excited to finally be going home.

None of them had no idea of how long the trip would take. Rhaegal didn’t remember, and Jewel’s idea of time was very different from Sansa’s. Three of the Dragon Riders decided to come with her, riding Sunset, Sapphire, and Silver. One of the other, smaller dragons also decided to come, Silk, carrying extra supplies. And Water decided to come as well. Which gave them the opportunity to have a boat that she could propel through the water. Sansa worried some, because the water that she’d seen in Westeros and Essos was very different from the water surrounding Lysos. Water assured her that she could fly if necessary.

Two months after her son was born, Sansa hugged Dev and the Elders goodbye, promising again to return. And then they took to the skies, with Water skimming along below them. In addition to the three Dragon Riders, Sansa had Malla, her attendant, who would help with the baby. As they flew away from land, Midnight joined them, with Sunrise on his back. They’d decided to come, too.

It was almost three weeks before they saw more than a strip of land here and there, which the dragons used to rest. The landscape was unfamiliar to Sansa, and Jewel told Sansa that the smoky islands and rocky mountains were his home. They were joined in the sky by a pure white dragon that Jewel called his sister. Together they veered north, then west.

The sun was just rising in the sky when Sansa saw the Great Pyramid in the distance. She laughed happily. “That’s it!” she called to Malla, who was sitting behind her. “That’s Meereen!” Rhaegal surged ahead of the others, excited to be home as well. As they approached a cream and gold dragon roared, coming from the east. “Viserion!” Sansa called happily. And then Drogon, coming from beyond the city. Sansa couldn’t stop laughing, happy tears streaming down her face.

Brienne rushed onto the balcony, her eyes wide, her heart racing. Tyrion soon followed. “Is it?” he said anxiously. He’d given up. It had been a year, and he’d given up. He’d stopped expecting, and forced himself to stop wanting. He’d grieved and cried and tried to move on. But hope was a rumbling volcano inside his chest.

Brienne stared, wanting to be sure before she spoke. Drogon. Viserion. A pure white, a purple, a blue. A silver. A huge yellow and orange. Another huge black. A small pink and lavender. 

And a green and bronze. 

“I think so,” she said, excitement in her voice. “I think – no, it is. It’s Rhaegal. And there’s someone on her back.”

Within minutes the dragons were all soaring over the city, with Rhaegal flying in tight circles above the Great Pyramid. Pod joined them, smiling widely.

“They’re back!” he said happily. 

“ _Tyrion!”_ Sansa yelled, waving.

He lifted a hand in return, his smile visible even from her distance. She called Sunrise to her, giving him instructions.

The tiny pink and yellow dragon floated down from Rhaegal’s back, a small scrap of paper in his mouth. It landed on the table beside Tyrion, looking at him expectantly. Tyrion tore his gaze from his wife – surely the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen – and took the paper. “Thank you,” he said politely. The dragon rumbled, and inclined its small head.

“Aren’t you beautiful,” Brienne said, smiling at the small dragon. She gingerly extended a hand, and the dragon sniffed lightly before rubbing its head against her palm.

“She says for us to stay here, she’ll land the dragons outside the city walls and then release them to go hunt,” Tyrion said. Sansa waved as she turned the dragons towards the wall.

It felt like hours before she made it back to the Great Pyramid. Toren, the son of one of the Elders and the head Dragon Rider, came with her, along with Malla and the baby. The other Dragon Riders stayed with the dragons.

She made it to the courtyard before she heard someone shouting her name, and turned to see the Queen running towards her in a streaming ripple of pale silk. 

“Your Majesty!” Sansa ran to meet her, and they threw their arms around each other, each crying and talking.

“I’ve been _so worried!”_ the Queen exclaimed. “You’ve been gone for so long!”

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” Sansa cried. “I was so sick and so was Rhaegal, and we got lost!”

They hugged again, and then Sansa gestured for Malla, who came forward, curtseying to the Queen and handing the small while wrapped bundle to Sansa. The Queen gasped.

“I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left,” Sansa grinned, showing the Queen the sleeping baby.

The Queen smiled, stroking an impossibly tiny hand. “Oh Sansa, he’s beautiful.” Her mind was instantly relieved. Even as small as the child was, he looked like Tyrion. “I know you want to get upstairs, but we need to talk. You’ve returned with far more dragons than you left with,” she laughed.

Sansa smiled. “And Dragon Riders, as well,” she indicated Toren, who bowed.

“Oh yes, we have much to catch up on. Go on, see your husband. I’ll be up later.” After one more tight hug, Sansa and the others headed for the staircase.

“I’d hoped you’d been exaggerating about these,” Toren said, eyeing the stairs.

“I wasn’t,” she said. “Well, let’s get going. The sooner we start, the sooner we arrive.”

“The sooner we start, the sooner you see Lord Tyrion,” Toren teased.

Sansa could only smile, trying not to actually run up the stairs. She knew from previous experience that she had to pace herself. But oh, she couldn’t _wait_ to see him.

“We’re here,” she whispered to the sleeping baby. “You’re finally going to meet your father.”


	23. Chapter 23

She saw Pod first. He grabbed her, hugging her tightly and spinning her in a circle. “Oh, you’ve gotten taller!” she laughed, pulling back to look at him when he finally put her down. He’d grown several inches while she was gone, and his shoulders had widened. He looked less boy and more man, and the muscles she felt in his back and arms were evidence that he continued to work with Brienne and the sword.

Theon was next. His smile was wide and genuine. “It’s good to see you,” he said quietly in her ear as he hugged her. “We’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you as well,” she said. Like Pod, he’d gotten taller. But he seemed far more relaxed, too.

She and Brienne cried as they embraced. “I missed you _so much_ ,” Sansa said. “I can’t wait to tell you everything!”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” Brienne grinned through her tears. “But you have one more person to see. He’s on the terrace.”

“I’ve someone for you to meet, as well,” Sansa said, as Malla put the baby in her arms. Brienne gasped happily. “I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left.” Gently she handed him to Brienne, who sank into a chair, her eyes glued to the sleeping baby. Pod and Theon came over and looked over her shoulder. “Also, this is Toren, he’s one of our Dragon Riders.” Theon looked up sharply. “Toren, this is Poderick Payne, Lord Theon Greyjoy, and Lady Brienne of Tarth. As far as I know, Theon is the only living expert on dragons,” she said with a smile. She left as the men began to talk.

His back was to her, his face still to the sky. Sansa stopped, suddenly unsure. What if he weren’t as happy to see her as she was to see him? What if, in the last year, he’d moved on? 

Hesitantly she walked up behind him, resting her hands on his shoulder. “Hello, Tyrion,” she said softly.

He was still for a moment, and then his hands rose to grasp hers tightly. “Hello, my lady. I see you’ve made your way back to me.”

It was his voice that soothed her fears. His voice, deep and kind, and trembling with emotion. “Yes,” she said with a smile. “I’m sorry it took so long, I got just a bit lost.”

“Just a bit,” he said with a watery chuckle. “I really must work to become a better husband, it seems. I am forever misplacing my lady wife.”

“True,” she agreed. “Perhaps a leash of some kind?”

He paused. “Do not tempt me,” he said softly, his voice breaking some. “Because at this moment, tying you to me seems a most excellent idea.”

She sank to her knees, lying her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him as her tears fell. “I was so afraid, and I missed you. And Rhaegal was sick, and I was sick, and I didn’t know what to do.”

He leaned his face against hers as something inside of him began to unravel and smooth itself out. She was home. She’d come back to him. Turning, he lifted her face and kissed her deeply.

“I was so worried,” he breathed when he finally finished his gentle assault on her mouth. “I thought you must be dead by now.”

“Almost,” she smiled. “But not quite. And I’ve brought someone for you to meet.”

“Ah yes, you’ve made new friends,” he chuckled.

“Yes, there are several of them. But that’s not who I’m talking about.” She took his hand and pulled him inside.

“Well, who have we here?” Tyrion smiled as he entered the room, his gaze on the tall, dark haired man talking to Theon.

“This is our head Dragon Rider, Toren,” Sansa said, releasing his hand and turning towards Brienne.

“Lord Tyrion,” Toren smiled warmly. “I’ve heard so much about you, I feel as if I know you already. A pleasure, my lord.”

“Well if you’ve had anything to do with saving my wife, the pleasure is all mine,” Tyrion started.

“Tyrion,” Sansa called. He turned and was suddenly aware of Brienne, gazing down in awe at a tiny white wrapped bundle. His heart dropped.

“Tyrion,” Sansa said again, smiling radiantly and holding out her hand. “Come meet our son.”

“ _Our_ son?” he asked, his voice unintentionally sharp.

“Yes,” Sansa said patiently. “I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left.”

“He looks just like Ser Jamie,” Brienne said, her voice breaking a little on his brother’s name. He glanced at her, surprised.

“You’ve never mentioned that you met my brother,” Tyrion said slowly as he walked towards his wife. In the last year, he and Brienne of Tarth had become good friends. She had become the sister he’d always wanted, the sister Cercei had never been.

Brienne nodded, her eyes never leaving the baby. “I was his escort from Riverrun back to King’s Landing, when Caitlyn Stark released him in exchange for her daughters. It was a harrowing journey, one that I don’t particularly care to think about.”

“He was the prisoner,” Tyrion said, remembering. She’d told him that she’d taken a prisoner from Riverrun to King’s Landing.

“Yes,” she said, clearing her throat and finally looking up at him. In her eyes he saw grief and sadness and love and tears, and suddenly all of their conversations about love lost and grieving and letting go and moving on made sense. She was in love with Jaime. And he wouldn’t have given her a second glance. Compare to Cercei…well, there was no comparison. Cercei was nothing if not beautiful, graceful, and elegant.

With Sansa’s hand resting on his shoulder, he stepped forward and looked at the baby in Brienne’s arms. Golden curls peeked from beneath a white cap. Although he was sleeping, Tyrion immediately saw that Brienne was right – he looked just like Jamie. He didn’t realize he’d reached for him until Brienne slid the baby into his arms. “What’s his name?” he said softly.

“Eddard Jaymes Lannister,” Sansa said. “Ned.”

“Ned Lannister,” Tyrion mused. “A good name.”

Their rooms were filled with people all evening. Ser Barriston came, and Gray Worm. Of course the Queen, and her King, whom Sansa had never met and didn’t like. Even Varys stopped by. They were all happy to welcome her back, meet the tiny dragon who sat near Tyrion watching them all curiously, meet the Dragon Rider, and hear about Lysos and the presence of dragons. It was Tyrion who realized that Jewel must be from what was left of Valyria, based on what Sansa and Toren told him about their journey.

“There are still people and dragons in Valyria?” Ser Barriston said, surprised.

“Apparently so,” Toren said. “I had wondered but I wasn’t exactly certain. My lady, if there’s time I would like to go with Jewel and speak to them.”

“I’d like to persuade them to return with us,” Sansa said firmly. “From what Jewel has told me they are living very difficult lives. And they deserve to know that their ancestors made a new home”

The Queen looked at her sadly. “With us?” she said. “You’re not planning to stay?”

Sansa paused uncertainly, realizing that they were all watching her. “Well, that will depend on Tyrion,” she said finally. “He’s the reason I came back.”

His brow raised, “We have lots to discuss, it seems.”

“Oh yes,” Sansa smiled. “We do.”


	24. Chapter 24

It was nearing midnight when they finally were alone in their rooms. They’d gotten Malla and Toren settled down the hall, near Pod. Tyrion watched as Sansa opened her shirt to feed the baby. “Tomorrow we’ll go out and meet the other Dragon Riders,” she said. “And I want you to meet the dragons, too.”

He nodded, trying to tear his gaze from her bare breasts. “Yes,” he said. His gaze was finally interrupted by the tiny dragon, Sunrise, landing on their terrace railing. He gave a small _roar_ before coming into the room and settling at the foot of the bed.

Before Tyrion could speak, Sansa shook her head. “No,” she said. “In the chair over there. Don’t pout, behave or I’ll have Silk come and get you,” she said sharply.

A tiny bit of flame flew from the dragon’s mouth but he obediently flew the short distance to a padded chair, and curled into a small ball before closing his eyes.

“He’s quite intelligent,” Tyrion remarked.

“He is,” Sansa said. “He and Jewel and Midnight are the three most intelligent of them all. Although none of them are exactly _unintelligent_. But they think very differently than we do.”

“I would assume so,” he murmured, his gaze returning again to her bare breasts. He managed to remain silent as she finished nursing Ned and changed his swaddling before putting him in the cushioned basket beside the bed.

“Is it finally my turn?” he asked lightly, although his heart was pounding.

She responded by kissing him all over his face, ending at his mouth. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured against his lips. She licked his lips lightly, and Tyrion pushed her down onto her back.

They talked and loved each other all through the night, especially when Sansa rose to feed the baby. As the sun rose, no one came to disturb them so they took themselves to the bathing room. Sansa set the sleeping baby on a towel near them and they stayed there for a long while. When they returned, a tray of food sat on the table, along with a note from the Queen.

_I wish I didn’t have to disturb you, but Sansa I would like to spend more time with you today, and perhaps go with you when you take Tyrion to meet the other dragons and their Riders._

Tyrion sighed. “The world doesn’t stop,” he sighed.

At Sansa’s request, the Queen came to them so that she could be near Ned. “I’m still feeding him every few hours,” she explained. “Malla will stay with him, but she can’t feed him.”

They talked about Lysos at length. “They wouldn’t come to your aid, Your Majesty,” Sansa said. “They will not concern themselves with what happens here or in Westeros. They didn’t even know the country still existed. Their ancestors believed that the Doom had destroyed everyone else.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I can understand,” the Queen said. “It took you three weeks to return?”

“Three weeks on the dragons,” Sansa clarified. “It would be months by boat, I’m sure.”

“What of you?” the Queen asked thoughtfully. “How long do you plan to stay with us?”

Sansa shrugged. “We haven’t had a chance to discuss it yet,” she said honestly. 

The Queen looked to the little man that she’d become so fond of, who had been quiet for the entirety of the conversation so far. “You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?”

Tyrion smiled wryly. “As she said, we haven’t had a chance to discuss it yet. I have many, many questions, as I’m sure she knows.”

Finally they went to see the dragons. Sansa wasn’t surprised to find that Theon, Viserion, and Drogon were also in field with the others, who sat patiently waiting. Midnight cocked his head and studied Tyrion closely, then leaned forward to sniff him. Tyrion watched the massive dragon apprehensively as Sunrise rumbled happily beside him.

“You have permission to ride him,” Sansa said happily. “Congratulations my lord, you are a Dragon Rider.”

Tyrion looked surprised, then pleased. “Well,” he said, studying Midnight. “He’s a handsome fellow, isn’t he.” He tentatively reached out and stroked his snout, and the dragon rumbled. “And massive.”

Sansa introduced the other Dragon Riders and the dragons to both Tyrion and the Queen. The Queen’s questions to Toren centered mostly on how much control the riders had over the dragons. “She’s trying to weaponize them,” Toren said later to Sansa and Tyrion.

Tyrion nodded. “She’s planning a war, and dragons would most definitely turn the tides in her favor.”

“She wants me to help her,” Sansa said nodding. “She’s hoping that while I’m here with them, I’ll use them to help her win the Iron Throne.”

“The Iron Throne?” Toren said curiously.

While Tyrion gave him a brief history of the Seven Kingdoms, Sansa excused herself to go feed the baby. Brienne was with Malla, the two women laughing happily together. It was nice to sit with them and laugh and talk together, then have dinner with her family – including all three Dragon Riders – and then feel her husband pressed closely to her all night.

She spent most of her days with Theon and the Dragon Riders, including Tyrion on occasion, talking about the care of the dragons. They also flew out several afternoons, with Theon on Viserion’s back, although Sansa knew she wasn’t happy about it.

Although she and Tyrion spoke briefly about Lysos, it was almost two weeks later when they finally had time to discuss it in depth. They flew out early one afternoon on Rhaegal and Midnight, and Sunrise – who had become Tyrion’s constant companion – to a beautiful cove. They sat on the beach talking while the dragons played in the water, chasing each other.

“As Mistress of Dragons I sit on the Elders Council,” she told him. “They’ve never heard of the Starks or the Lannisters. The majority of their ancestors were sailors, who had been out at sea when the Doom happened. There were several who were from noble families, who came with their eggs, and a few merchants who actually owned the ships they took. Fifteen ships. A few of them gathered as many dragon eggs as they could, and quite a few of the nobles rode their dragons. Many of them died on the voyage. They lost track of how long they were at sea. They didn’t have enough provisions, they were living on fish and it just wasn’t enough.”

“Where were they headed?” he asked curiously.

“They were trying to get to Westeros, or at least to the Summer Isles. But the clouds were so thick and dark that they couldn’t tell their direction. They were lost at sea for months. And then they finally found land. The rest you’ve read in the books I brought you.”

He nodded. He’d been fascinated with the story, especially of the water that was so clear you could see to the bottom of the ocean. “Yes. It’s interesting how they’ve rebuilt their society. Many of the ancient traditions of Valyria were kept, and others found. They’ve established a thriving society.”

“They have,” she agreed. Silk landed nearby and Sansa smiled. “I was just about to call you,” she smiled to the pretty dragon. “Come look,” she said to Tyrion.

As they rose and walked towards the dragon, one by one all of the others appeared, gathering around. By the time they’d reached her, Tyrion realized that they were encircled around them. Silk leaned her slender neck down, and Sansa pulled a thin cord from beneath her shirt. When he’d asked, she’d told him it was to their chest of supplies, that Silk carried. Now she reached for the heavy lock that held the chest onto the thick rope around the dragon’s neck, then knelt down to unlocked the chest itself. Precious stones glittered in the sunlight.

“Many are native to Lysos,” she said, offering him a smooth round one that was a stunning mix of emerald and amethyst. “Others I’d seen before.” The chest was full of diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, and pearls. Sansa pushed them aside and reached for a thick book that was wrapped in heavy cloth at the bottom. “The council debated for days, but decided that they’d send this to you as well. It’s the only copy, and is very old.” She carefully handed the large book to Tyrion. 

Gently he lifted the heavy fabric. The book was bound in what looked like brown leather, with faded writing in black on the cover. On the top sat a letter, written in a fine hand on linen paper.

_Lord Tyrion Lannister –_

_Greeting from the Council of Elders of Lysos. Your wife has spoken so highly of you that we feel as if we already know you._

_We have sent with Lady Lannister an assortment of jewels, several sketches of our home, and a few books of our history. But as fellow intellects, we realize that this book will hold special value. While the jewels are yours to keep, we ask that this book be returned with your wife, who we know plans to return to us, hopefully with you by her side. The book details one of our ancestor’s knowledge of what caused the destruction of our homeland._

_As the advisor to both the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and the Queen of Meereen, we are delighted to extend to you a seat on our Council. Your experience will brings to us an unmatched range of experience, and we can only become better for it. With the position comes a salary and a home in the city, although I am sure you would prefer to live at the Dragon Estate with your lady wife._

_While we could speak for pages of our society and its attributes, I’m sure that the Mistress of Dragons can tell you of it far better than we. We only hope to meet you soon, and allow you to see the beauty of Lysos for yourself._

It had been signed by the four members of the Council.

Tyrion glanced in awe at the book still cradled in his hands. It detailed the cause of the Valyrian Doom. And the letter. They were offering him a seat on their governing body. He wouldn’t have to decide what to do with himself, or worry that he’d live forever in his wife’s shadow. His own income. His own home. On his own merit. He wanted to ask Sansa what she’d told them but realized it didn’t matter. This was a chance to escape the shadow of Lord Tywin once and for all. To start over with a clean slate, and make his life whatever he chose. He’d do whatever he had to do.

Carefully, he rewrapped the book. “I don’t want to expose it to the sea air,” he said to Sansa. “I’ll read it when we return. The letter mentioned sketches?”

“Oh yes, I’d forgotten,” Sansa exclaimed. Digging into the chest once more, she pulled out a large wrapped package, tied in twine. “I know the jewels are for you, but I’d like to give a few of them to Brienne,” she said. “I’d like for her to come with us.”

“Absolutely. We cannot leave her here,” Tyrion said firmly, to Sansa’s delight. “And Pod as well.”

Sansa waited as he studied the jewels. “You didn’t mention Theon,” she said softly.

“No, I did not,” he said mildly. “Because I don’t want Theon to come. Besides, he’s carving out quite a place for himself in the Queen’s service.”

Sansa smiled wryly. “I’d thought the same.”

Soon they returned to the city, knowing they needed to be safely back in the Great Pyramid before night fell. They managed to get everything loaded into the cart that Tyrion had made wait for them, and then up the stairs into their rooms.

Finally, Tyrion carefully unwrapped the book and opened it. Some of the writing was faded but some kind soul had written the missing parts on sheets of paper stuck between the pages. Picking up his wine, he settled in to read.


	25. Chapter 25

It took him three days to finish the book, and then he spent almost a week strategizing with the Queen and her council based on its contents.

“Her King is not happy about this,” Tyrion told Sansa one night as they lay in bed. “He keeps asking how she plans to rule both here and across the sea. And when she replied that she would simply travel between the two, he pointed out that once she begins to bear children she won’t be able to.”

Sansa raised a brow in confusion. “Does he think that she will stop being Queen just because she bears a child or two?”

Tyrion smiled at the indignation in her voice. “I believe he does, actually. I think he is assuming that once she has a child she’ll turn most of the ruling over to him.”

“She most certainly will not!” Sansa exclaimed.

Tyrion had to chuckle. “No love, she won’t. She’ll do the same thing you did, strap the babe onto her chest and climb onto her dragon. Hizdahr is learning that she will not do what he wants. He’s already pressuring her to have a child and she’s told him not yet.”

“How long before she’s ready to invade Westeros?” Sansa asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Not for a long while,” Tyrion assured her. “At least a year.”

“Are we going to stay here that long?” she asked.

“That’s something we have to decide,” he said slowly. “Dany has become a friend to both of us, and we can turn the tides for her. Do we want to help her do this?”

Sansa bit her lip. “I don’t know,” she said, troubled. “A large part of me wants to see Cercei dead. But a war….I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I’m leaning towards helping her,” he said. “Not just to see Cercei dead, but to see a decent ruler on the throne. Honestly, I have the same concerns as Hizdahr. Ruling both here and there is going to be difficult to say the least, even with dragons to fly between. She may have to give one of them up.”

“Will she?”

“Right this second, the answer is no. But once she’s sitting on the Iron Throne,” he shrugged. “A lot of things can change in a year.” He turned his head to peer at her in the dark. “Don’t you want Winterfell back?”

Sansa was quiet for a long minute. “Yes, but not for me. For Arya, or my brothers. For Jon, even. But…. I don’t want to go back there.” She stopped, not wanting to say that Ramsay Bolton had ruined her memories of her home. “What about you? Do you want Casterly Rock?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I do. I just want it without Lord Tywin hanging over my head. And that will never happen. So perhaps Jamie can have it, if he lives through this. Or my uncle.”

“You have an uncle?” Sansa was surprised.

“Yes, my Uncle Tytos. He rebelled against Lord Tywin and moved to the Free Cities. Lord Tywin told everyone that he was dead because my uncle refused to follow his commands. He lives in Lys. I’d hoped that I could meet him one day, but it doesn’t seem as if it will happen.”

She was quiet for so long that he thought she’d dozed off. “We’ll have to ask the Dragon Riders, and the dragons,” she said quietly. “We can’t just assume they’ll stay here, or that they’ll want to participate in a war that has nothing to do with them.”

“Even if they don’t, she has Drogon and Veserion,” Tyrion yawned. “It should be enough. She just needs ground forces.”

“And ships,” Sansa said. “How does she plan to get there?”

“We haven’t worked that out yet,” Tyrion admitted. “But by the time the army is ready, I’m sure we’ll have come up with something.”

A few days later, Sansa, Tyrion, and the Dragon Riders accompanied Jewel to his home. They left early, as the sun was rising, and flew for several hours before they saw the tall mountains, smoke still trickling from two of them. The sky had a deep reddish cast, and the clouds were thick and sulfurous, making them all coughed as they descended into a wide field. Thick berry bushes and fruit trees grew around the edges, and they could see where many of the trees had been cut down, giving a clear view of anything that might come up the hillside.

“I was right,” Tyrion said. “I’m almost sure this is Valyria.” His legs and back were sore from the long ride, and he couldn’t help but remember the stories of the perils that had fallen anyone who’d ever dared to broach the shores of the storied land. But he was also fascinated. He was in Valyria.

Jewel roared once, then twice, until his rider came, panting. “I thought you were dead by now,” he said with a small smile, stroking Jewels snout as he rumbled happily. He was a gruff man who introduced himself as Miren. Tall and muscular, with purple eyes and pale gold hair, he looked at them suspiciously but remembered seeing Sansa on Rhaegal’s back. “I tried to talk to you,” he told her. “I could tell something was wrong, but your dragon was so skittish and I could see she was injured. I thought maybe you’d come from the city.”

“Are there still people in the city?” Tyrion asked, peering through the bushes to where he could see broken spires and rooftops, indicative of what used to be a large and thriving city in the far distance.

Miren grunted. “There’s something there, but I wouldn’t call them people.” He stared at Tyrion curiously, obviously never having seen a dwarf before.

“Do the creatures ever bother you?” Sansa asked, nervously. The dragons were uneasy.

“Regularly,” Miren said. “It’s usually the smaller ones, and the dragons deal with them rather quickly.”

Fortunately they didn’t see anything as Miren led them to the network of caves their community lived in. Theirs was very obviously not an easy life, but they were pleasant and offered them food and a place by their fire. They all listened attentively as Sansa and Toren told them of Lysos, and Tyrion spoke of Essos.

“We tell our children stories of cities of jewels and large homes, where food and water are plentiful, and creatures don’t exist,” one of the women said, teary eyed. “But we thought everything had been destroyed.”

“No,” Sansa smiled. “Not at all. Your dragons knew it, they just didn’t have a way to communicate it to you.” The dragons were all asking her to share messages with their riders.

The decision to leave was quick and unanimous. “There’s little left for us here,” one of the men, Kurn, told them. “We’ve salvaged what we could from the homes years ago, including as many dragon’s eggs as we could find.” Their community had seven dragons, and nine eggs.

They spent three days with them, and arranged for Water to bring their boat, and escort them back to Riverside. “They’ll have to stop in Slaver’s Bay,” Tyrion told her. “They’ve nowhere near enough provisions.”

“It’s out of the way,” Sansa said. Slaver’s Bay was north and east, Lysos south and west.

He nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose a detour through the Summer Isle’s is possible, but I’m hesitant. I don’t want word to get back to Cercei about them. It shouldn’t, at least not until they’re long gone, but still….” His voice trailed off.

“What could she do?” Sansa shrugged. “As you’ve said, by the time she hears about it they’ll be long gone. And she hasn’t been inclined to pay much attention to what happens outside of the Seven Kingdoms, according to Lord Baelish.”

Tyrion grunted. “Littlefinger is correct,” he said sourly. “She has no sense of foreign affairs, or how they affect her. But hearing about a group of people with dragons, coming from Valyria, may actually pique her interest.” But realistically, he knew Sansa was right.

One of the Dragon Rider, Luuan, and her mount Sapphire decided to return with them to Lysos, to help along the way. Sansa and Tyrion went back to Essos to get the book the Elder’s had sent to Tyrion, and write a letter telling the Council that they planned to stay a little longer to settle their affairs before returning, and assuring them that Tyrion would be coming back with her. The letter purposely didn’t say how much longer they’d be staying, because they hadn’t decided.

“So there really are people and dragons in Valyria,” the Queen said thoughtfully when they told her. “Do they need help? Supplies?” she asked.

“Yes, we’ll send them through the Summer Islands on their way to Lysos,” Tyrion told her. He planned to send a few jewels with them to use in the Summer Isles, and he also planned to exchange one or two of the rarer ones in Meereen to give them a bit of currency.

“Oh, I can help with that,” she said instantly. “Those poor people.” At her insistence, the boat that Water was taking to them was fully stocked by the time they were ready to leave. She and Drogon flew with them when they returned so that she could meet them, and see what she could of the land her ancestors had come from.

“There’s not much to see,” Kurn told her, as they stood at the mouth of the caves. They could see down the hillside to the abandoned city far below. “That used to be Oros, I think it was called,” he said. “Over the centuries we’ve moved higher and higher up the mountains to get away from the creatures down there. We know that there were originally hundreds of people who fled into the mountains, but there are only sixty of us now. Even the dragons died. These came from the eggs those people brought with them, none of the original dragons lived.” They didn’t know if there were any other groups who’d escaped the Doom, but the dragons said they’d never seen anyone.

Dany looked sadly over the landscape, the thick clouds with a reddish sky peeking through, not a glimpse of blue to be seen. The bushes and trees were sickly yellow or faded green, the fruit small and underripe. Even the water in the distance was brownish black. “You never knew there was a world outside of this,” she said sadly. She was glad suddenly that Rhaegal had gotten sick and that Sansa had discovered these people. “We’re going to get you all out of here,” she said firmly. “There is a better life waiting for you.”

Kurn and Miren told them that having all of them walk down the mountain to the eastern coast was impossible, so they used the dragons to transport the community to the boat. It took hours to get everyone there and Water was edgy, there were _things_ in the water and she didn’t like them. Sapphire and Midnight stayed overhead, prepared to defend them if necessary.

Toren pulled Sansa and Tyrion aside. “She’s making these people think she’s the one saving them,” he said softly. “So they’ll be indebted to her, and the Dragon Riders will agree to fight her war.”

They both nodded. “Yes, I know,” Sansa sighed.

“And it’s working,” Tyrion said wryly. The people loved her, she smiled and held their hands and hugged them, and told them it was all over, everything would be fine now, she promised.

Water shrieked suddenly, and the boat rocked. The people still boarding scattered, screaming as a thick brown creature crawled out of the water onto the beach. The size of one of the smaller dragons, it was shaped like a toad, with sharp spikes on its back, and thickly curved claws at the end of its squat limbs. Black eyes, large and perfectly round, eyed them all hungrily. Below the waves, Water was battling a similar creature. Drogon’s flame shot out at Dany’s screamed command, and the creature screeched and skittered away, only to run directly into Sapphire’s blue flame. Over the water, Midnight suddenly lifted the creature fighting Water, and Jewel spit a wave of violet flame that engulfed it. Within seconds it was over, and both of the creatures were dead, burning in the sand.

“We need to leave,” Kurn said firmly.

“Yes, we do,” Dany said urgently. They rallied quickly and got everyone on the boat. Together with the dragons they set off, with Water beneath the boat, propelling it. The dragons flew low, staying nearby. Everyone was unsettled. The air was eerily silent, the clouds were thick and heavy and sat low over the water, making it impossible to see ahead of them. Only Water kept them from crashing into the jutting rocks and small islands scattered through the Gulf of Grief. They battled two more of the brown creatures and a slithering thing that Water snapped into two with her jaws before they broke through the clouds into the open waters of the Summer Sea, just as the sun was setting. Sansa smiled in relief, as below her the people cheered.

They passed the night quietly, and by the time the boat reached Ebonhead on the Summer Isle’s a few days later, the Queen had already departed. Sansa, Tyrion, Toren, and Luuan, the Dragon Rider that was returning with them, were waiting. They’d purchased additional supplies, had a healer check the people, and bought some clothes and blankets.

“How much protection do we need for the trip?” Miren asked.

“There’s nothing between here and there,” Sansa assured him. “I’ve gone there and back without seeing a soul. Everything should be fine.”

“Then we Dragon Riders will return with you,” he said firmly. “We will help your Queen retake her throne. It is the least we can do for all of her help.”

“You do realize that she is not _our_ Queen,” Toren told him. “Lysos, where our ancestors made their home, has no Queen.”

Miren nodded. “Yes, Lord Tyrion explained it to us. Still. He and his lady sit are on your Elder’s Council, and they’re helping her. She’s provided us with supplies, and came personally to escort us away from Valyria. We’d like to help.”

They divided the dragons and Riders, and sent a few dragons with them to Lysos, and returned to Essos with seven additional dragons and Riders. Toren had agreed to stay and help, as had Voori, who rode Silver.

“Fourteen dragons, and twelve Riders,” the Queen smiled. “Our aerial fleet is quite impressive. Now, we just need boats.”


	26. Chapter 26

Tyrion sat quietly, listening as the Queen held her daily audience. Ser Barriston the Bold was ill and so for the last few days he’d acted as Hand, taking the occasional note, interjecting here or there, but for the most part simply sitting there, his mind more often than not wandering, as it did so often lately.

He could admit that he’d become tired of the political game his life had become. He’d known it for a long while, but there hadn’t been anything he could do about it until Sansa returned on the back of a dragon, talking about a new life in a place no one knew existed, and was so far away that he’d most likely never be found.

He’d spent most of his life living in his family’s shadow – literally and figuratively – and had never thought much about how it bothered him. Intelligent Lord Tywin, Hand to a King. Beautiful Cercei, a Queen. Ser Jaime, the youngest Kingsguard in history, tall and handsome and the best swordsman in seven kingdoms. He’d spent his entire life trying to earn their approval and live up to their expectations. Trying to be worthy of their love. It’s why he drank so much, he supposed. That and the physical pain that was always present inside his stunted body. The wine took the edge off of that, as well. He’d dreamed of a time when they’d respect him, and admit his intelligence, and perhaps come to care for him a little. It was a pitiful dream, he could admit that, too. He’d never before imagined a life without them.

But in the last few months he’d found a new joy in his wife and son. He’d even stopped drinking so much. He sipped on fruit juice and lemoned water and cold tea all day, even though the craving for wine was always present. He allowed himself a cup with dinner, and one before bed. Instead of drinking he played with Ned, watching as he giggled and scooted across the floor, feeding him his first taste of solid food – which was promptly spit out – and laughing with his family. Because that’s what they were, he and Sansa and Ned, Brienne and Pod. Toren, and Miren and his wife, Zara. A family. The family he’d always wanted. His life had become a very good place to be. Every night his beautiful wife rubbed medicated oils into his sore and cramping muscles, and he’d begun to realize that he felt better than he’d had in a long time, despite the constant craving for wine. The ability to soar over the land on the back of a massive dragon hadn’t hurt either, along with the tiny dragon that had become his constant companion, and who watched him intently as he spoke. That and the offer of a seat on the Elder’s Council in a place he’d never been, simply because his wife boasted of his intelligence.

He watched Dany as she thoughtfully meted out justice, trying to be worthy of the title ‘Queen.’ She would be good for the Seven Kingdoms. She was good for Meereen, but not in the way they needed. Her brand of intellect would be better served in Westeros. Meereen was too set in its ways, too superstitious, and no matter how much good she did here, she’d always be an outsider. And he worried that her ‘King’ was plotting against her. Hizdahr wanted to rule, it’s why he’d married her. He’d assumed that in order to keep peace, she’d allowed him to rule but no, that was not the Targaryen way. He was a figurehead to her, no more than a pretty arm decoration, which infuriated him. And so Tyrion worried.

Finally the session was over, and they returned to her rooms where they went over his notes from the morning, and she gave assignments. Just as he was about to leave to have lunch with Sansa and Ned, Grey Worm came in.

“There is a large group of boats approaching,” he told them. “They bear a flag this one has not seen before.”

“Can you draw it for me?” Tyrion asked.

Grey Worm nodded, and quickly drew a rough sketch. Tyrion nodded grimly. “Grey Worm, can you find Lord Greyjoy for me, and bring him to us?”

Grey Worm nodded, bowed, and left.

“What is it?” the Queen asked softly, looking at the sketch. It looked to her like a giant sea squid.

“Theon’s family banner, I’m almost certain,” he replied thoughtfully. “This could be good.”

“How so?”

“You have the only son of their ruling family in your service,” Tyrion said. “Although, I admit that it might hold no weight at all. Theon was raised by Sansa’s family as a hostage. Ned Stark kept him – and treated him well and fairly – in order to ensure that his father behaved himself and stopped rebelling against King Robert’s crown. It is possible that they’ve written him off completely. I suppose we’ll soon find out.”

It was over an hour before Grey Worm returned, with Theon and a woman. “Your Majesty,” Theon said. “May I present my sister, Lady Asha Greyjoy. Asha, Her Majesty, Queen Daenerys, and Lord Tyrion Lannister.”

Lady Greyjoy bowed. “You Majesty, Lord Lannister. It is an honor to meet you.”

“Lady Greyjoy,” the Queen said kindly. “Welcome to Meereen. What brings you?”

“A word of warning. My Uncle Victarion’s fleet approaches, and he does not come in peace. He’s been sent to return you to the Iron Islands as my Uncle Euron’s bride. By any means in which he can.”

The Queen smiled, clearly amused. “By who’s order?”

“My Uncle Euron was named King of the Iron Islands after my father’s death. And the only fitting Queen he wants is you.”

The Queen laughed as Tyrion asked, “What makes him think he can just come here and take her back? What does he bring as offering?”

Asha shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“And why have you come to tell us this?” Tyrion asked shrewdly. “I assume you want something.”

“I do,” Asha confirmed. “Once you kill my uncle, his men will follow me, as the next living Greyjoy. I have been told that you need ships to transport you and your men to Westeros. I’ll take you. In exchange, you will allow the Iron Islands our freedom, and name me Queen.”

“You? Not your brother?” the Queen asked.

“Theon doesn’t matter any longer,” she said with a steady look at him. “He’s been gone too long, none of the men would follow him. He’s green to them. But, instead of bringing my brother home, I’ll allow him to continue on as your Dragon Keeper.”

“How kind of you,” Tyrion murmured.

Asha looked sharply towards him. “He’s no good to me,” she said. “He doesn’t know our ways. And I don’t have dragons for him to train.”

“But you could,” Theon said softly. He wasn’t sure how to feel about Asha’s arrival. A large part of him was relived at her disregard, but another part was furiously angry. How dare she dismiss him so effortlessly? The only thing all of him agreed on was that he didn’t care about his father’s death. He’d thought he would, but he didn’t. “There are such things as water dragons.”

Asha looked at him. “And do you happen to have an extra water dragon?” she asked.

“I have two eggs,” he said, surprising both the Queen and Tyrion. “Water gave them to me,” he told them. “Sansa said she wanted me to have them, and to care for them.”

Tyrion nodded, knowing that Sansa had told him that Water liked Theon far more than any of the other dragons, who merely tolerated him.

Asha stared at him, considering.

“Your Majesty,” Theon said suddenly. “You told me once that you would consider it a personal favor if I assisted Sansa with the dragons. May I now ask a favor of you?”

“Go on,” she said slowly.

“Support my sister. The Iron Islands will never settle under Targaryen rule. They never have, they never will. It’s why I was taken hostage. Let them go. In exchange, my family will give you and your men transport to Westeros, and bring back any who wish to return after the war. My sister also agrees to allow no reaving in the West and Summerlands.”

“I do?” Asha said evenly.

“Yes, you do, _Your Majesty._ ” Asha considered that, the nodded.

“And what do you get out of this, Lord Greyjoy?” the Queen asked softly.

“My sister will completely disown me,” he said promptly. “I will owe no allegiance whatsoever to the Iron Islands or House Greyjoy.”

“In exchange for one of those water dragon eggs,” she said. Theon paused, then nodded.

“Done,” he said.

“Done,” Asha replied. They both looked to the Queen, who considered them both silently for a few moments before smiling.

“Done.”


	27. Chapter 27

Theon suppressed a smile as he left the Queen’s presence. Finally, he was free. He didn’t belong to anyone, he had no allegiance to anyone but himself. He could go to Lys, or Pentos. Or Naarth. Of course he’d need money for that. He and Pod had talked about the chest of jewels Sansa had brought back from Lysos with her. He hoped that they planned to leave him a few. If not he’d ask, because he wasn’t going back with them. He knew Pod and Brienne were, and he wished them well. He’d miss them, especially Pod. He didn’t know if he’d stay in Westeros once the Queen took the throne, but he might. He had a dragon, he could go anywhere. The smile escaped, curving his lips into an attractive smile. He was _free_.

“ _Theon!_ ” he heard Asha hiss behind him. He stopped, and turned.

“Where are you going?” she asked, panting slightly. He was impressed. Most people couldn’t even make it up the stairs in one try, and were exhausted if they did. But not Asha.

“My room, and then to check on the dragons,” he said quietly. He smiled at a few serving girls who passed by them. One in particular, who’d been shyly flirting with him for months. Perhaps tonight. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a girl, it had been so long. It was time to refresh his memory.

“Can I stay with you?” Asha asked quietly, surprising him.

“Where were you planning to stay?” he asked.

Asha shrugged. “I was hoping the Queen would be so grateful for my help that she’d offer me a bed.”

Theon studied her silently. “I live on the Lannister’s floor,” he said. “I can’t invite you into my room, and their rooms are all full. But I’ll arrange something for you.” He turned and continued down the stairs, realizing quickly that she was following him. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” he said quietly.

“No,” she snapped. Her legs were beginning to tire from the never-ending stairs. How did they do this all day?

“Where is your ship?”

“I had to leave it,” she said. “I used the last of my money to buy my passage when I found out Euron was sending the fleet here.” She hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks, and longed for a bed. “It was my only chance, I didn’t have time to go back to get it. I had to get here before he did.”

Theon saw Messendei coming up the stairs and sighing, stopped her. He spoke rapid fire High Valyrian, fairly certain that Asha didn’t speak the language. Messendei nodded, bowed slightly, and turned her gaze to Asha. “If you will come with me, my lady, I will show you to a room.”

“I’ll have your things sent up to you,” he said quietly. Now he knew why when he’d found her she’d been carrying a pack, which they’d left in the stables when Grey Worm had come to tell him the Queen was requesting him. He’d been surprised to see his tall sister striding through the grounds, walking purposefully until she’d stopped, looking around in confusion. She hadn’t recognized him of course, but he’d know her anywhere. She looked like their father.

He continued on towards his rooms, stopping in the main sitting area when he realized Lord Tyrion and Sansa were there, with Toren, Miren, Zara, and Brienne.

“I thought you said at least a year,” Sansa said in surprise.

“That was the original plan,” Tyrion said. “But with Asha Greyjoy’s promise of transportation the plan has changed.” Sansa looked troubled. “It won’t be tomorrow love,” he assured her. “But I’ve a feeling it will be much sooner than we’d thought.”

He came fully into the room, dropping into a chair at the table. “Where is your sister?” Brienne asked.

“I asked Messendei to assign her a room,” he said, taking a piece of bread.

“Theon, she could have stayed here with us,” Sansa started, then stopped at the look on his face. “Oh. I see.”

“So,” Tyrion said after a moment of silence. “You owe no allegiance to the Iron Islands, or to House Greyjoy. Or anyone else. What do you plan to do with yourself?”

Theon kept his head down and bit back the smile. _Free._ “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“You could travel some,” Zara said. “See the rest of the world.” It was something she and Miren talked about often, now that they knew there was a world outside of the red sky and dark caves. “You have a dragon, you can go anywhere.”

Theon nodded, his eyes on the plate before him.

“Theon, why aren’t you happy?” Brienne asked curiously. “I assume you negotiated exactly what you wanted with the Queen and your sister?”

“Yes,” he said instantly, glancing up at her, and then to Sansa before dropping his eyes again. “Yes. I am.”

“But?” Miren asked gently.

“No but,” Theon said. “I got what I wanted.”

“Which is?”

“I’m free,” he said softly. He hesitated, then continued. “I’ve never been free before.”

“What do you mean?” Zara asked curiously.

Theon realized that he was hesitating because he didn’t want to hurt Sansa’s feelings. “I – I – Winterfell has always been my prison,” he said, resigned. “Your parents treated me well,” he looked at Sansa. “They treated me like Robb, and I appreciate it. Your father raised me to be a Lord, just like his own son. But I’m not his son, because he and King Robert took me from my father, as a hostage to ensure his continued good behavior. I couldn’t leave. I was as much a prisoner there with your parents as I was with Bolton. And for the first time in my life, I’m free. You can’t make me go to Lysos.” He looked to Brienne. “And you can’t tell me that I have to go. _I’m free_.”

“Ah yes,” Tyrion sighed.

Sansa looked at him, tears filling her eyes. “I was so young,” she said softly. “I never realized – “

“Why should you have?” Theon shrugged. “You were just a child.”

“We were both just children,” she said sadly. “I hope you’ll find happiness, Theon.”

“I will,” he said softly. “And I wish you all the happiness in the world. You didn’t deserve all that’s happened to you.”

“Neither of us did,” Sansa replied, wiping away her tears. “We were both just children, caught up in this bloody war.” She turned suddenly, looking out towards the sea. “The others are returning. From Lysos. And they’ve brought a few more with them.”


	28. Chapter 28

By the morning, one of the ships was leading the others into Slavers Bay. At the Queen’s request, Sansa gathered all seventeen dragons and had them soaring silently over the bay. Water landed elegantly and slid over to the dock, where she rumbled happily at the sight of Theon. “Hello, love,” he smiled as he laid the saddle over her neck, securing it tightly before climbing into the seat. Water flew low over the water, and Theon leaned lazily over her neck, his hand skimming the water below. He didn’t want to be involved in this at all, but the Queen asked. He couldn’t say no to her.

She slid aside of the lead ship, the men all watching curiously. Settling in the water, she lifted herself so that Theon was level with the deck. “Hello, uncle,” he called, jumping lightly to the deck.

“Uncle?” Victarion said, frowning at the handsome young man before him. Like his men, his hand rested on his longsword.

“Yes,” Theon said. “I know you don’t recognize me, it’s been a long time. I’m Theon, Balon’s youngest son.”

“Theon.” Victarion was obviously surprised. “Last I heard you were still in the North. How did you end up here?”

Theon smiled. “I’ve a way with dragons,” he said lightly. “It seemed wise to support the Queen who has them.”

Victarion glanced up at the sky. “I thought she only had three.” The sight of all of the dragons sent a shiver of nerves through him, even knowing what was in his possession. “What do you want?”

“The Queen sends her greetings, and welcomes you to Meereen,” he said. “She requests that you dine with her this evening at the Great Pyramid.”

Victarion smiled. “Tell her I would be delighted.”

“Good,” Theon said. “She’ll send a litter for you before sunset. Please instruct your men to stay aboard the ships, Uncle. There is violence in the city after dark, of the murderous sort, and I’d hate to see any of your men harmed. Meereen is not safe once the sun goes down.” He whistled shrilly, and Water rose from the waves. “I’ll see you this evening.” He jumped up lightly, slid over the rail and onto Water’s neck, and the dragon soared into the sky.

Although Tyrion and Theon joined the Queen for dinner with the other Geyjoy’s, Sansa begged off, citing exhaustion. It was nice to have dinner with Zara and Brienne and Malla, as Toren and Miren had gone to check on the other dragons and riders, and Pod was off somewhere on an errand for Tyrion. She yawned widely as she settled into the comfortable sofa.

“Were you this tired with Ned?” Zara asked with a smile.

“I don’t know,” Sansa replied. “I was dealing with other injures, we didn’t even realize I was pregnant until I was well along.”

“Zara, when are you and Miren going to start having children?” Brienne asked with a smile.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she blushed. “We’d been talking about it, but now we really want to see some of the world. Once we settle down, perhaps.”

“Well, Lysos is an excellent place to raise children,” Malla said.

“I’m looking forward to seeing it,” Brienne said happily. “I’ve heard you two talk about it so much, I hope it matches the pictures in my mind.”

“It will surpass it, I’m sure,” Sansa yawned again.

“How long do you think it will be before we go to Westeros?” Malla asked.

Sansa shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said, troubled. The last thing she wanted was to be pregnant and in a war. But when Tyrion returned, he didn’t assuage her doubts.

“She wasted no time,” he sighed, pulling off his boots as she watched him sleepily. “Victarion fell ill at the table. He’ll linger a few days, I’m sure, perhaps even be strong enough in the morning to return to his ship. But he’ll be dead by weeks end.”

“So we’ll be going soon,”Sansa said, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“I think so,” he said heavily. “Truth be told, I don’t know that I’m ready for this either. As much as I want to see Cersei dead, I’m rather tired of all of the blood and politics.” He crawled into bed and slid over beside her. “All of my life, I’ve wanted the respect of Westeros. And now that I’m on the cusp of having it, I’ve realized I just don’t care. I want to spend time with you and Ned, and prepare for our new little one.” He laid a hand against her just starting to swell belly. “I want to see Lysos, and sit by the river and ride Midnight. I don’t want this life anymore. Which is surprising,” he said thoughtfully. “I never thought I would want to walk away from it all. But then, it was all I ever knew. I feel almost like the Valyrians. Now that I know there’s another life out there, I feel like I would be foolish to not take it. So once we’ve helped the Queen take the Iron Throne, I think we should leave as quickly as possible. It’s time. We’ve more than earned the right to be happy.” He paused, glancing up to Sansa’s face to see her sleeping peacefully. Smiling, he kissed her softly and closed his eyes.

Within a week, all of Tyrion’s predictions were proved correct. Victorian died on board his ship, and Asha took control of the Iron Fleet. And within two weeks of that, they were on their way to Westeros, with 17 dragons soaring overhead. The Queen had left her King in charge and Sansa was certain - as was Tyrion - that the Queen would have to fight him for control when she returned. _If_ she returned.

“She’s never seen Westeros,” Tyrion sighed. “I’m sure she’ll want to. And there’s so much to do there, it’s going to be a long time before she can leave again. She’s going to need someone to help her.”

“Someone who isn’t you,” Sansa said firmly.

“Oh no,” Tyrion assured her. “Just as soon as she takes the throne, we’re leaving.” He was becoming more and more excited about their new life in Lysos. What was important was the beautiful woman next to him, the baby growing inside her, and the other babe sleeping in his arms. He had the chance to give them a life free of bloodshed and ridicule, a life free of his sins, and the sins of his family. And he was going to take it.


	29. Chapter 29

Tyrion climbed into a chair, prepared to wait. He wasn’t sure which part of the keep he was in, but it was a small room, with only a table, a few chairs, and a fireplace. A shame he didn’t have a book with him. Outside, the sound of dragons filled the air – the beating of their wings, and their loud roars. The Queen and Sansa were making sure everyone knew they were there.

He never thought he’d be sitting in the Red Keep again, but here he was. He was relived, mostly. The sooner they they put the Queen on the throne, the sooner they could leave. He had no qualms about leaving her, not once he’d seen how easily they’d been able to get into the city, and into the keep. He’d realized that everyone – including himself – had underestimated their most valuable player – Varys. The Targaryen supporters that he’d organized were ready and prepared. Cercei had even less support than she thought. If everything went according to plan, the Queen would be on the throne by end of day. If not, they’d use the dragons, and the magic. He didn’t want to do that, it would be unnecessarily destructive. But if they had to, they would.

The door opened and Queen Margeary and her grandmother entered. Both looked at him in surprise, but it was Lady Olenna who spoke first.

“Tyrion Lannister. Never thought I’d see you again,” she said bluntly.

“I never thought to be seen again,” he said with a small smile. “But I could not refuse the request for my assistance.”

“Tell me, Tyrion,” Lady Olenna said imperiously. “What exactly is this you’re doing?”

“You may call it a rebellion, or a coup, or whatever you wish. But the Targaryen’s have returned, and they want their throne back. It won’t be bloodless, but we are hoping it will be fireless. And that, ladies, is where you can help.”

“Why should we help you?” Queen Margeary asked with a raised brow.

“Because if we help him we’ll get to live, silly girl,” Lady Olenna snapped. “Think! The Lannister’s aren’t going to win this battle, there are dragons out there!”

“Seventeen dragons, to be precise. Although it would only take one to destroy King’s Landing. But destruction isn’t the goal here.”

“What do you want us to do?” Margeary asked.

“Exactly what Varys whispered that you should do – support the Targeryen Queen and encourage everyone else to do the same. Cercei isn’t going to give in, and Tommen unfortunately still listens to her council. I must say that I’m surprised the two of you have allowed her to live this long. Why haven’t you gotten rid of her yet?”

“She’s difficult to get close to,” Lady Olenna said. “She keeps herself surrounded by guards.”

The queen looked shocked. “Grandmother!”

“What?” Lady Olenna said casually. “You know as well as I that life would be much easier without her presence.”

“Your Majesty, you do know that it was your grandmother who arranged to have Joffery killed?” Margeary looked shocked at first, then considered her grandmother, who looked completely nonplussed.

“You didn’t really think I was going to let you marry that monster, after everything Sansa had told us about him, did you?”

Tyrion smiled. “As Lady Olenna has already stated, the Lannisters won’t win this war, except me, since I’m on the correct side.”

“The side with the dragons,” Margeary said.

Tyrion nodded. “Exactly. And you have a choice. You can be on the correct side as well, or you can perish with the rest of them. But you only have a few moments to decide.”

“As if that’s a choice,” Lady Olenna snorted. “You already know we will.”

“What of Tommen?” Margeary asked, worry creasing her brow.

“I will do my best for my nephew, but I do not know that there is much I can do,” Tyrion said on a sigh. “He is the reigning king. For now, Lady Olenna, find your son. Convince him and as many as you can to support the Targaryen Queen, so that this battle will be as bloodless as possible. Your Majesty, I suggest you return to your chambers. Bathe, put on your prettiest dress, paint your face and curl your hair. I have convinced her that you are intelligent, and fortunately I didn’t have to lie. She detests dimwits,” Tyrion cautioned. “But she is understanding and sympathetic to the cause of those who’ve been given no choices. You’ve been used as a political pawn, passed from king to king without much say in the matter. In addition, Sansa has told her much of you, and how she’s looking forward to seeing you again. The Queen hasn’t had many friends besides Sansa and her maid, so you’ve the opportunity to create a place for yourself if you play your part correctly. Any questions?”

“Sansa is here?” Margeary asked with a delighted smile.

“She is,” Tyrion confirmed. “She is with Queen Danerys and the other Dragon Riders.”

“Do you mean to tell me that little Sansa is up on a dragon?” Lady Olenna asked, smiling slightly.

Tyrion couldn’t contain his grin. “Little Sansa has given me a son, is carrying another, and is the Mistress of Dragons. Those beasts adore her.”

He had the guard escort them back to their rooms, then went to stand on the balcony as he waited for Cercei to be brought to him. Above him Sunset sailed by, her wings beating steadily. He saw Midnight not far away, flying low over the city, growling, smoke wisping from his nostrils. All of the dragons breasts were alight with fire, but Sansa had told them all not to set fire to anything – yet. She’d only give that order if there was resistance. Sunrise landed on the balcony next to him, growling lightly. Tyrion smiled. “It’s always good to have you with me,” he said. He knew the small dragon couldn’t understand him, but he spoke to him anyway. Sunrise always looked at him intently, as if he could understand the words. Tyrion wouldn’t put it past him. He’d learned that dragons were much, much smarter than humans gave them credit for, and Sunrise was special.

He waited for almost an hour before the guards returned. “There’s no sign of her,” their leader said. “We cannot find the Queen Regent, the King, the Queen, or the Lord Commander.”

“Damn,” Tyrion said sourly. He’d hoped to catch them before they could escape. “Where was she last?”

“She was seen returning to her chambers over an hour ago,” he replied.

Tyrion walked out the door, Sunrise beside him, the guard trailing behind, nervous of the small dragon. When he arrived at Cercei’s rooms, he found the doors wide open, a few guards standing inside. He walked straight to her bedchamber, picking up the poker from the fireplace, then began tapping it lightly against the stones around the fireplace. “Aha,” he said, finally finding the one that sounded hollow. “You there,” he gestured to the nearest guard. “Come here. Place your hand firmly on this stone and push.” The back of the fireplace slid up silently. “They went through there,” he said, gesturing. “Hurry, they’ve a good lead.”

He headed back towards the room he’d been using. Damn it, he’d hoped to find her and end it here. Every hour she remained missing was an hour more he and Sansa had to wait. And he’d wanted to see Jamie. He didn’t know that he could save his life, although he was going to try. If not, he at least wanted to say goodbye. He wasn’t opposed to taking Jamie with them, if the Queen would allow it. He hadn’t spoken to Sansa about it yet, but he hoped she’d agree.


	30. Chapter 30

By evening of the next day, Queen Danerys was seated on the Iron Throne. While everyone else swore fealty to the true Queen, Tyrion, Sunrise, and Varys searched out Qyburn and his men. The discovery of his lab in one of the basement rooms had been horrifying, and Tyrion was happy to have Sunrise with him. He was tiny, but he was still a dragon whose lavender tinted flame burned as hot as any other.

Everyone was searching for Cercei and Jamie and Tommen and Margeary, along with her father. Varys’ little birds were certain they were still hiding in the city’s somewhere. But the Queen had another job for him, and so he and Sansa and the Dragon Riders were sent out to spread the news of the Targaryen Return throughout the Seven Kingdoms. It was a longer task than he’d wanted, but he did it in the hopes of finding Cercei, and the welcome opportunity to visit Winterfell. It was also an opportunity for Brienne to say goodbye to her father, and Tyrion to show his family Casterly Rock. He tried to think of it as a vacation, but the realization that he’d never see his home again saddened him. His children would never play here, would never rule here. He tried to remind himself that he was providing a better life for them, but….this was all he’d ever known, and all he’d ever wanted. And of course, now that he was here it was easy to see himself remaining, serving as the Hand of the Queen – a position she’d already offered him, as Ser Barriston had resumed his position as Lord Commander of her Queen’s Guard. But then he’d notice a glare from one of the servants, or one of the household soldiers, who had all been loyal to Lord Tywin, and be reminded that the ugly news of Lord Tywin’s demise had long since reached Casterly Rock. Even here, there would be no relief.

And so he picked a few things of his mother’s to gift to his wife, and packed a small trunk of items he wanted. Then walked through the house one last time as the others prepared to leave, looking up at the portraits of Lannisters of years gone. He smiled sadly at a tall portrait of his mother with a young Jamie and Cercei, and stood the longest in front of a handsome portrait of young Lord Tywin.

“Having second thoughts?” Sansa asked quietly, from behind him.

Without moving his eyes, he shook his head. “No.”

“I know it’s hard,” she said softly. She’d heard of the beauty of Casterly Rock, but the reality of it had taken her breath away. She could easily see them living out their lives between King’s Landing and the beautiful estate. Being back in King’s Landing, this time as a friend of the Queen and a Dragon Rider, had earned her a level of respect she’d never before received. But she’d also heard whispers of her father’s name, and her brothers defeat at the hands of Old Lord Frey. It only reinforced her belief that Westeros was no longer her home. “Leaving your home and everything you’ve ever known. I know it’s not easy. It’s only easy for me because I’ve been to Riverside already. I have a home there.” She knew that he might decide to stay. She couldn’t force him to come with her. But she was going back to Lysos.

He didn’t answer for a moment, then nodded slowly. “There’s an old saying,” he turned to face her. “Home is where the heart is. If that’s true, this hasn’t been my home in a very long time.” He held out his hand, and she stepped forward to take it, “Come along, Lady Lannister,” he said. “We’ve business for the Queen.”

He stared at the large estate one last time as Midnight rose into flight. Sensing his sadness, Midnight circled the house three times before heading north with a loud roar.

They spent weeks crossing Westeros, stopping to tell still battling regiments that the war was over, Cercei and Tommen were (presumed) dead, and a Targaryen had been returned to the throne. Sansa cried at the decimation of the countryside, the burnt and ruined villages and crops. Tyrion frowned as people all over the country begged him to send word back to Kings Landing – there was no food. Between the war and the snow, crops and animals were diminished severely. And the farther north they went, the colder it got.

“Only a few more, and we’re done,” Sansa said cheerfully, adjusting her thick, fur lined cloak over her shoulders. “Then we can head back to King’s Landing, and from there go home.”

“Yes,” Tyrion muttered, pulling on his gloves. “Honestly, I don’t know how you lived here. I haven’t been warm in weeks,” he complained.

Sansa laughed. “We haven’t even gotten to the true north yet,” she teased. “And we’re supposed to go all the way to The Wall. However will you manage?”

He grumbled but managed a smile as well. A happy Sansa was a balm for his soul. Her belly was thickening, and her smile was constant the last few days. He’d asked if she wanted to go to Winterfell – not that he had any intention of actually allowing it – and had been pleased when she said no. Since that time she’d been all smiles, her relief a palpable thing.

He made sure Sansa’s guard had their instructions, and only nodded to Brienne. She would guard Sansa with her life, he knew. He was splitting their group, sending Sansa, Brienne, and three Dragon Rider’s to Gull Town, the Vale, White Harbor, Karhold, and then The Wall. He, Miren, Pod, Toren, a few guards, and seven very angry dragons would go into the Barrowlands – Greywater Watch, Flint’s Fingers, Torrhen’s Square, Deepwood Motte, and then to Winterfell. She wasn’t happy that they were going separate ways, but was more than happy to leave the Warden of the North to him. And he was happy to speak to Lord Bolton, and his son. From there, they’d rejoin Sansa and the others at The Wall, and they’d all return to King’s Landing together before leaving for Lysos.

He climbed into the saddle attached to Midnights neck, noticing that Brienne and Pod looked as cold as he felt. Brienne remained pleasant, but Pod’s nose had been runny and red for weeks now, and he’d developed a dry cough. Lord Tully had given him a flask of whiskey when they’d left Riverrun, and the Lord of Seagard had refilled it. Pod sipped from it steadily, convinced it would aid his cough. In actuality it only made him slightly drunk, but he was pleasant so Tyrion didn’t complain and tried hard to keep his amusement to himself. It wasn’t hurting the boy.

The air only got colder, and although they were offered at least grudging hospitality at every keep, Tyrion desperately wished to return to Kings Landing, and then on to Lysos. “I am a child of the Summerlands,” he complained one morning near the end of their long trip. “I am not accustomed to these temperatures.” He constantly ached from the cold, and no matter how thick the cloak, gloves, boots, hoods, and scarves he hadn’t felt his fingers and ears in weeks.

“Neither are we,” Miren told him, shivering. “It’s never been this cold at home.”

“Well, that’s something to look forward to,” he sighed. At least the frogmen of Greywater Watch had given Pod something for his cold, so he wasn’t drinking constantly.

The dragons landed outside of the thick walls of the northern side of Winterfell. Tyrion took notice of the men along the walls as they dismounted and he and a few guards gathered themselves and began walking towards the gates. They were almost there when a voice called out to them.

“That’s far enough.” A small group had appeared at the gate, wearing hastily pulled on armor beneath their cloaks, swords at their sides. The man who spoke was young, no more than five and twenty, with a pack of dogs at his feet, although they whimpered nervously at the sight of the dragons. He was big beneath his heavy black cloak, but Tyrion couldn’t tell if the bulk were muscle or fat. His face led him to believe it was fat. Although he wore thick boot and gloves, his hood was pushed back to reveal a head of unruly curls . Even from his distance Tyrion could see that his cheeks, nose, and ears were red with cold. “What do you want?” The young man called. Then his eyes narrowed. “Wait,” he said slowly. “You’re Tyrion Lannister.”

“I am. I’ve come to speak with your father.”

The young man paused, considering. “He’s dead,” he said finally. “I’m Lord here now.”

Tyrion nodded slowly. “You must be his son. Ramsey.” At the name Sunrise growled, and the other dragons took up the sound. Tyrion wondered how much they knew of Sansa’s time with young Lord Bolton. He raised his voice so that he could be heard over the snarling dragons. “My lady wife has mentioned you. I’ve come with a massage from Kings Landing. The Targaryens have returned. Queen Daenerys sits on the Iron Throne. The war is over.”

The younger man nodded. “Alright.”

“The Queen invites you to King’s Landing, so that you may swear fealty.”

Lord Bolton smiled nastily. “Tell her that with this weather I’m unfortunately unable to make such a long and arduous journey. I’m sure she understands.”

Tyrion looked surprised. “You’re refusing to meet the Queen?”

He shrugged carelessly. “Circumstances prevent my attendance. Give her my regards.”

“It’s not your regards she wants,” Tyrion snapped. “It’s your fealty.”

“If she wants it that badly, she can come get it. Although she’d have as much trouble getting here as I would getting there.”

“You do realize that your refusal makes you an enemy of the throne?” The thought pleased him. No one was going to stop him from killing Ramsey Bolton, but at least now he had legal reason.

The boy laughed. “So what? She cant do anything about it. Besides, the Northmen may want their freedom.”

“Are you openly threatening rebellion, my lord?”

The boy only shrugged. “Take it as you will,” he said. “Now get off my land.”

“ _Your_ land? This land was given to your father by a Queen that is _dead._ Before that, it belonged to the Starks for generations, and as I’m married to one of the Stark children, it’s more my land than yours. Which reminds me, there is the matter of _my_ lady wife.” Tyrion smiled delightedly. “Midnight,” he called. In answer, the enormous dragon rose to his full height, spread his wings and roared. His breath, hot and sulfurous, swept through the field, melting the top layer of snow. The other dragons rose as well and the sound was defeating, shaking the snow from the trees and making the ground tremble. The dogs at Ramsay Bolton’s feet turned and ran away, and the men behind him took several steps back, fear evident on their faces. As the dragons continued to roar, Tyrion spoke to Sunrise, wondering again if the small dragon would even understand him. He’d soon know. “Kill him,” he said coldly.

The dragon moved so fast that no one realized he was gone until he was attacking, lavender tinted fire streaming into Bolton’s face. He screamed, trying to swat him away, calling for his men to attack, but they didn’t hear him. The dragons rose and fire rained down on the group. They circled the keep, roaring and spitting fire as Tyrion stood unmoving, a satisfied smile creeping across his face at the sight of what used to be Ramsay Bolton lying unmoving on the ground, burning brightly. He walked calmly over to where he lay, and Sunrise landed quietly at his side. Tyrion smiled at the small dragon. “You are a good friend to have,” he smiled. Sunrise only stared at him, then grumbled angrily at Ramsay’s remains. “No, no, we won’t waste another moment on him,” Tyrion said. “Come now, we’ve other things to do.”

Tyrion walked purposefully into the keep. No one stopped him or said a word, although he passed numerous people. By the time he reached the Great Hall his back and legs ached ferociously. “Can someone bring me a cup of wine?” He called as he sank gratefully on a chair. “And find the Steward and send him to me?”

No one answered but within a few moment, a girl brought him a steaming cup of hot wine, smiling slightly and curtsying. “The Steward is on his way, milord.”

“Thank you,” he said, warming his hands on the cup. He was almost certain he’d seen her on his last trip to Winterfell, years before. “How long have you been here?” He asked.

“All of my life, milord.”

He nodded. “Are there any more of Bolton’s men here?”

She looked uncertain. “I think they all went out with him,” she said hesitantly. “But I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “Spread the word that the Targaryen Queen is giving Winterfell back to the Stark family.” The girl gasped happily. “Hopefully, Lady Arya will be back soon.” He had no idea of how to make that happen, but they needed some hope.

They stayed the night in Winterfell, where he went over the books and accounts with the very new Steward. In the morning, they mounted the dragons once more, Tyrion grateful that this would be a short ride, certainly no more than a few hours. He wanted his wife and son, and would be pleased to tell her that Winterfell remembered her fondly, and that all was in as good of order as it could be. “Because of the Glass Garden, we don’t have as many food issues as others,” the Steward told him. “But we’ve moved the Winter town into the keep, so we’re stretched.”

The sun was beginning to sink when they finally arrived at Castle Black. Tyrion was pleased to see the other dragons resting in the snow outside of the Wall. It meant that Sansa and Ned were inside. Despite the freezing temperatures a smile, broad and happy, lit his features. Finally, he was back with his family. He was home.


	31. Chapter 31

It was almost four weeks later when they finally returned to Kings Landing, after two harrowing weeks of chasing White Walkers – he wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it himself – and freezing temperatures. On their way back they’d stopped often, still searching for word of Cercei, Jamie, and the others. Hopefully the Queen would know more.

Sansa went to rest, taking most of their entourage with them. But he stopped Brienne and asked her to come with him to see the Queen. She was a warrior, and he knew the Queen would appreciate her input. “Do we have to right now?” She asked tiredly. They’d been on the dragons for weeks, and they were all exhausted.

“The sooner we make our report, the sooner we can head home,” he said briskly. Truthfully, the pain in his back and legs was excruciating, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down beside Sansa and sleep for days. But if he did that, it would be another week or more before they could leave. Sansa’s pregnancy was progressing nicely, but he wanted to be well settled before it was time for her to give birth.

As he expected, they were taken to the Queen immediately. “Welcome back,” she smiled warmly.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Tyrion smiled. “It’s good to see you again. How have things progressed in our absence?”

She sighed, gesturing for them to sit. “As well as can be expected,” she said. “At least it seems to be warming up some.”

“Yes, we noticed that as well, as we traveled south,” Tyrion said, taking the cup of wine a servant brought him. “Have you heard anything of Cercei and the others?”

She nodded. “Varys tells me they’re suspected to be heading to Old Town, where they plan to take a boat to Essos. But no one can manage to pinpoint their location. Your father had many friends and allies, and from what I understand Ser Jamie is reminding people of their loyalty to the Lannisters. And of course, Queen Margeary.”

“From what we’ve heard, it’s not working,” Brienne said wryly. “No one wants Cercei or Tommen to return to power. The only Lannister that inspires any loyalty is Lord Tyrion. They aren’t getting as much help as you may think.”

“Hopefully you’ll be able to find them soon,” Tyrion said. “Cercei will be a thorn in your side until she is dead.”

They talked for hours, answering question after question before finally going to find their beds. The next day the Queen spoke to Sansa and Toren while Tyrion and Brienne rested. Finally, they’d told her all they could, and were preparing to leave. “What will you do?” Sansa asked Theon over dinner.

He shrugged. “Stay here for a little while. Then travel, I suppose.”

“You know the Queen wants you to stay on,” Tyrion said around a mouthful of food, “You could have a very good life here.”

Theon shrugged again. “I know. I just don’t know if it’s the life I want.”

They all nodded, understandingly. “Well, at least you are not without resources,” Tyrion said.

Theon raised a brow in confusion. “My lord?”

“I’ve heard of how you tricked your sister out of the egg you gave her, and a tidy sum besides.”

Theon’s smile was sly. “There was no trickery, my lord. It was an honest wager, fairly won. It simply didn’t occur to her that she might lose. So she cried foul.”

“So loudly that your dragon got involved.” Tyrion watched the boy steadily. He didn’t trust him.

But Theon merely shrugged. “Water came of her own will,” he said. “I’ve always had the impression that the two ladies were never fond of each other, and Water took offense to Asha pointing her sword at my throat.”

“Hmmmm,” Tyrion said mildly, glad that in another day or two the boy would no longer be his concern.

The next morning he and a few of the other men went out the city gates to a wide field, where Silk sat waiting. “Hello, lovely girl,” he said approaching her slowly. Midnight and Sunrise were also there and he hoped that they would intervene on his behalf if things went badly, He held up the long cord with the key to the chest that was still around her neck. “Will you let me into the chest, hmmm?”

She studied him silently, in the unmoving way of dragons. He tried again. “Sansa has sent me to get a few things from the chest,” he called out to her, “Will you lower it down, please?”

After almost an hour of cajoling she finally shifted so that she could lean her long, slender neck down towards the ground. “Thank you,” Tyrion sighed gratefully. He and Toren made quick work of filling a few bags with gold coins and jewels, and then loading a few items for her to carry. “Thank you,” Tyrion called again as they walked away. She and Midnight watched them ride away before taking to the skies to fly above them as they returned. As they approached the Keep, he sent Pod to deliver a few messages for him, and gather a few things. He returned to his rooms, where Toren helped him to lock the heavy bags into a trunk beneath the bed.

“Are you certain they’ll be safe there?” Toren asked, as Tyrion twisted the key into the lock.

“They should be,” Tyrion assured him. “And it’s only for a few hours.”

He took two of the bags with him later in the day to his final meeting with the Queen and Lord Varys. “You’re sure you won’t stay a bit longer?” She asked sadly.

Tyrion shook his head, “Soon, Sansa won’t be able to travel due to the babe,” he said, “It’s going to be hard enough with an active one year old. No, we need to be going. But I’ve brought you a gift.” He pulled out the two bags, pressing one into her hands.

“What is this?” Dany smiled delightedly. Opening it, she poured a small mound of sparkling jewels into her hand, gasping happily. “Tyrion, they’re _beautiful_!”

He smiled indulgently aft her joy. “I know the mines will provide you a regular income for a few years, but those are for you. Have them made into something fit for a Queen.” He knew that Robert had sold most of the royal jewels to help fill the treasury. “And this is for you, my friend,” he said, giving the other bag to Varys. “Without your intervention I literally would be dead. There is no way that I can adequately repay you, but know that you have my eternal gratitude.”

As he returned to his rooms, he sent for Brienne and Theon.

“The ladies haven’t returned from their errands, and I believe Lord Greyjoy is gone,” he was told. “He gathered his things several hours ago.”

“Damn,” Tyrion muttered. “Send down and find out if he’s already left. I’d like to speak to him before he goes.”

It was almost an hour before Theon knocked on Tyrion’s bedroom door, dressed for flight. “You wanted to see me, my lord?”

“Theon,” Tyrion said, relieved. “Yes, I’m glad I caught you.” Rising, he gestured him in as he moved to the trunk that he’d slid beneath the bed. Opening it, he pulled out one of the larger bags.

“I know you’re not coming with us to Lysos, but we were not planning to leave you resourceless,” Tyrion grinned.

“Thank you,” Theon smiled, relieved. “Thank you so much. For everything,” he said earnestly. Although he had the money he’d won from his sister, it wouldn’t last for long. This would make things much easier.

“You’re quite welcome. Take care of yourself.” Tyrion extended his hand and Theon took it in a firm grip. “And should you chose, you can always come to Lysos.” He hoped the boy had no intention of it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he made his way there after he’d see all of the known world he wanted to see. “I know Sansa and Brienne will be sorry they missed you.”

“Oh, I saw them in the city,” Theon grinned. “We’ve had our last hugs and goodbyes.”

Tyrion sighed in relief as the boy left. He couldn’t manage to feel good about him, despite his best efforts. He was certain that they boy was eventually going to cause trouble. But that was no longer his concern, thankfully.

“Oh, he’ll end up on Lysos eventually,” Sansa said. “Water wants to show him her home. But for now, she doesn’t plan to stay, just bing him for a visit.”

“When is she planning to go? Now?”

Sansa shook her head. “No, she wants to see the world. But eventually.”

Within a few hours they were ready to leave. The dragons had slept most of the day, and were eager to head home. Only one, Silver and her rider Voolri, had decided to stay. “I’ll take the boy’s place, I suppose,” she shrugged. “And help with the dragons.” She’d worked often with Theon and knew all of their commands, and had the books he’d gotten from Meereen. Tyrion also pressed a small bag into her hands. 

At last they took to the skies, heading for Lysos. Tyrion felt free in a way he’d never had before. Westeros and all of it’s worries were no longer his problem. He’d done his best, and now it was his turn. He turned to smile at Sansa as Midnight and Rheagal soared beside each other.

It was finally his turn.


	32. Chapter 32

The storm raged for days. The wind pushed and pulled at them, the rain lashed down until they thought the ship would rip apart. Finally, the captain ordered each of them tied to the main mast, for fear of losing more than had already washed over the sides. For days they spun and tossed and turned, the sky and sea both the same shade of deep gray, until they had no idea which way was up and which was down, much less north from east. At several points hail rained down on them, the size of small fruit, pelting them mercilessly. And still the storm raged. 

Finally, she opened her eyes and felt gentle rainfall on her face. The sky above her was still full of swirling black clouds but seas appeared calmer, although small waves still rocked the ship, which was listing heavily. The captain was moving grimly about, limping, blood streaked down his pants leg. One of his men was beside him. Her brother lay across her lap, a bloody bump on his head. Nearby their servant lay crumpled, a sharp piece of wood through her breast, evidence of her demise.

The captain’s man knelt next to her, offering a cup of water. “How do you feel, m’lady?” he asked.

She took the water gratefully, gulping it down, then reaching for her brother. “He’s fine, m’lady,” the man said hurriedly. “Sleepin, is all. He was up helpin out for a long time.”

“I’m alright,” she said hoarsely. “Remove this,” she said, pulling weakly at the rope that still bound her to the mast.

“Not yet, m’lady,” the man said regretfully, glancing at the still churning skies. “The cap’n don’t think we’ve seen the end of this storm.”

She looked around her, at the deck littered with bodies, the ship leaning heavily to one side, then up to the broken main mast, half gone. One of small masts was also gone. The third mast remained but the sail hung in tatters, its pieces flapping in the small breeze. “The ship,” she started.

“Can’t take much more,” the captain said grimly, limping his way to her side. “We’ve taken on more water than we can bail out. The life boats are all destroyed but one, and even that one is damaged. All we can do is pray we sight land soon.”

“Where are we,” she said, trying to twist around to see behind her.

“I’ve no idea,” the captain heavily. “There’s no land in sight, and without the stars I can’t determine our location. My compass tells me we’re headed west, but it could be broken.”

“West,” she muttered. “Then we’re not heading towards Essos.” And aid.

The captain shook his head, as the rising wind lifted the soggy tails of his coat. “I don’t think so,” he said, raising his voice as the wind lifted. “If the compass is correct we’re heading southwest. Essos is southeast.”

The rain was falling harder, and it was cold. She shivered. “We need to be below,” she said firmly. 

The captain shook his head. “Below is full of water. Any chance we have will be up here. If we’re below we won’t be able to sight land or any other assistance that may be out here. No, Your Grace. There are only five of us left. We must stay up here if we’re to survive this.”

The ship lurched upwards suddenly then dropped sickeningly, a large wave of water washing across the deck. The captain fell, sliding, and then was gone over the side, his man falling behind him, trying to catch him. The rope around his waist stopped him, growing taunt just as he slid out of sight over the side. She watched helplessly, waiting, until she felt her brother rouse. The wave of water had woken him.

“The captain,” she said urgently, pointing to the rope stretched across the deck. He nodded and crawled towards the side, only to be pushed back as another wave washed across the deck, and then the storm was raging once more, the ship tossing and turning, spinning across the water. She lost track of time as day blended into night and back into day amidst the wind and water. After a long time her brother untied her from the mast, leaving a length of her rope trailing behind them, and they crawled to the high side of the ship, where he all but threw her over the side of a life boat. She collapsed on the bottom, lying in a pool of water, seeing the crack in the forward side but realizing that it was small and most likely manageable. There was a bucket near her feet, they’d have to use that to pour out the water as it collected. She lay there, waiting for her brother to crawl in, but instead felt the sickening drop as the boat was released over the side. “NOOOOO!” she screamed in terror, bolting upright. Beside her the ship was all but laying on its side and as she watched a wave washed over it, pushing it farther beneath the rolling water. She gripped the sides of the small boat as it heaved and turned on the waves, her eyes searching for sign of her brother. After long moments she thought she saw a figure jump from the side of the boat into the water. She pushed her hair out of her face, straining to see through the heavy rain and waves. And then he was there, coming up next to the boat, and she reached to help pull him in. He collapsed on the bottom, panting, his fingers fumbling to tie the long length of rope still attached to him to one of the oar hooks, opposite of the one her rope was attached to. 

She held on to him and he held on to the boat, and together they weathered the storm, dumping out water ever few hours. It lasted only another two days, but it seemed forever. She couldn’t remember being warm and dry and well fed, sleeping in a bed or enjoying an afternoon in the garden with her children. There was nothing but wind and rain and clouds and sea, and her brother.

She opened her eyes and squinted in the sunlight. She was lying against her brother’s chest. Raising her head, she looked up to see him sleeping. The sky was clear and the sun bright, the water finally calm. Behind them she could see the edges of the massive storm, a black smear across the not so distant horizon. She pushed herself upright, looking around but there was nothing to see but water in all directions, not even a hint of land. The water was the same shade as the sky and so clear that she could see the fish swimming beneath, as well as the underwater plants and coral reef, all the way to the bottom. Her clothes were damp and sticky, her lips parched and dry, her stomach empty. She was lightheaded and weak from hunger, it had been days since they’d eaten anything. She trailed her fingers in the water, then drug them across her lips. The salt stung and burned where her lips had cracked open, and she frowned. They’d survived the storm, but what now?

It wasn’t long before he woke as well, squinting into the brightness of the sunlight, then looking curiously at the water before twisting around the see the storm receding behind them. “Now what?” she asked him.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, grimacing at the pain in his lower back. “Now, we row,” he said firmly. Miraculously both the oars were still in their hooks and he pulled one out and handed it to her. She looked at it in dismay.

“You can’t expect me to?” she asked in disbelief.

“You can’t expect me to, with one hand?” he asked mockingly, raising his right arm to show an empty sleeve. She gasped in dismay.

“I have it,” he assured her, patting the bag slung across his shoulders. “But one of the clasps is broken, it won’t stay on. So you’re going to have to help if you want to survive.” He pulled the bag around to his front side, digging in it until he found what he was looking for – the captain’s compass. 

“He said we were off course, headed southwest instead of southeast, but he wasn’t sure if it was working correctly,” she said, still staring in dismay at the oar across her lap.

“The question is now, which way should we go,” he said musingly, then sighed and shook his head. “According to the compass, the storm is due south of us, and I don’t think it’s broken.”

“How can you be sure?” she asked.

“Because the sun is rising from over there,” he said, pointing. “The sun rises in the east, which makes that west, and that” – he pointed to the black clouds – “south. So our choices are east, west, and north.”

She looked at him, her uncertainty showing on her face. “Which way do you think?”

“Northwest,” he said confidently. Using the oar one handed – awkwardly – he turned the small boat so they were pointing in the right direction. “You’ll have to turn around,” he said. “We need to be facing the same direction, and rowing together.”

She stared at him, a frown on her face. “You can’t seriously expect me to do this.”

“Of course I expect you to do this,” he said sharply. “I have one hand, I can’t do it on my own. Either you do it or we both die out here. Now turn around and _row_. You know how, we used to do it all the time as children.”

She glared at him, her chin set stubbornly, but turned around and began to row. It took him several tries to get some kind of balance and awkward rhythm, but he eventually managed. “How long do we have to do this,” she complained after about an hour.

“As long as it takes for us to find land,” he said through gritted teeth. His head was throbbing and his vision blurred, and the muscles in his back and arms were screaming, as he was sure hers were. But they had no choice.

They continued on for about another hour before they stopped to rest for a bit and used the bucket to remove some of the water that had accumulated in the bottom of the boat. Without the crashing waves, the crack was completely manageable. “This water is beautiful,” he said casually. His heart and head were pounding. If they were at home he wouldn’t worry about her, but out here…..how would she manage? She knew how to fish – at least, she used to – but there was nothing to fish with, and he couldn’t remember if she knew how to make a fire. And that was if they could find land.

She looked down at the clear water. “I’ve never seen water this clear,” she said, rubbing her upper arm. “Have you?”

“No,” he said. Which is what worried him. He’d been over most of the Seven Kingdoms, and he’d never seen water like this, even in Tarth, and that had been the most beautifully blue water he’d seen. “Perhaps it had something to do with the storm, all of the churning cleared away all of the dirt.” She looked skeptical, but nodded. 

He didn’t let them rest for long – wanting to get them as far as they could before he passed out, which he was beginning to believe was inevitable - and soon they were rowing again. All through the bright morning they rowed steadily, and not long after the sun reached its zenith they saw the smudge of land ahead of them. But within an hour they say something else, something that made them both pause.

A dragon.

They both stared openmouthed as it soared over them, bright red and orange, it’s huge wings beating steadily.

“Well,” she said finally. “We must be headed in the right direction, if we’ve gotten near that girl’s beasts.”

But her brother slowly shook his head, even though the action created a wave of nausea. “I saw all of her dragons,” he said. “That thing is red and orange, I’ve never seen it before.”

She twisted around to stare at him. “You can’t think…..there are more? All of the dragons died years ago.”

“We all thought that until the Targaryen girl hatched three dragon’s eggs,” he said tiredly, suddenly afraid. Not that he’d tell his sister that, any more than he’d tell her he had a concussion and was likely going to pass out soon. “Let’s move. I’d like to be on land by dark, if we can.”

But as the afternoon went on they saw another one, a blue-gray monster that circled over them before heading back towards the same stretch of land they were headed for. And then another, a blue and purple jewel toned one that flew low over the water, seeming to look directly at them. Finally, not long after the sun had fallen behind the mountains, they were in sight of shore. But she stopped rowing. “Look,” she said, pointing.

Sitting on a tall outcropping of rock was the red and orange beast they’d seen first. It was twice the size of the others. As they sat looking, it stretched its great wings and roared, the sound startling birds out of the nearby trees. “We’ll come aground over there,” her brother said grimly, pointing to a heavily wooded area a long stretch away from the dragon. He had to get her to land, he didn’t know how much longer he could remain conscious. His head throbbed, the world spun, and he’d already been gagging up stomach bile, as had she - neither of them had eaten in days. What would she do, he wondered desperately. How would she manage once he passed out? If she were on land, perhaps she could find shelter. Those beasts were too large to move easily through a heavily wooded area, so that would be her best defense, to hide in the trees. They adjusted their course, rowing steadily in spite of their fatigue and hunger. Just as he was about to tell her to stop rowing so he could get out and pull the boat ashore, a huge black dragon landed gracefully on the sand directly in front of them. A part of his mind could acknowledge that the thing was extraordinarily beautiful – its scales seemed to shimmer, and he could see multiple colors playing across its great body. And then it dropped its neck down to the ground, and a tiny man slipped off and waddled down towards the water to meet them. Within moments a second, much smaller dragon, pink and yellow and orange, landed next to him.

He shook his head in disbelief. It couldn’t be. But he heard his sister, and knew that it was.

“You,” she snarled, completely enraged.

“I could say much the same thing,” he responded, obviously annoyed.

Jamie tried to stand and fell over the side of the boat, landing on his face in the water. He heard his sister cry out his name, felt her hands reaching for him, then he was being pulled out of the water, onto the sandy beach. She and Tyrion were arguing, but his head was pounding and his vision blurred and grayed, then went black all together. His last thought was the hope that Tyrion wouldn’t kill her.

“We’ve got to get him back to the house,” Tyrion said urgently. “Help me get him onto Midnight.”

But Cercei slapped him away. “Get away from him,” she snarled. “Don’t touch him.”

“And what do you propose to do, Cercei?” Tyrion said exasperatedly. “Look around you. You’re not in the Red Keep, there’s no maester coming. The only hope he has is to get back to the house. There’s a healer there, she can help him. If he stays out here, he’ll die. And what will happen to you then?”

“Unlike you, I don’t need a guard to protect me,” she said disparagingly. “I can protect myself.”

“Good luck with that,” Tyrion snorted. “But Jamie needs help, even if you don’t.”

“We’ll be fine, we’ve always been fine. Don’t touch him!” she yelled as Tyrion reached for Jamie.

“Cercei be reasonable,” Tyrion said, trying to be patient, even as he worried for Jamie. The knot on the side of his head was bright red where it wasn’t beginning to bruise, the skin stretched taunt, and a little blood still leaked from it. His skin was pale and chalky. “Come back to the house. Have some food, sleep in a bed, and regain your strength. Bathe,” he said, wrinkling his nose at her. “You’ll love the bathing chambers, they’re magnificent. We can argue all you want when you’re both well.” But she refused to allow him to touch Jamie, going to far as to hit him across the face when he tried again. It was a weak slap for her, but it made the dragons – she hadn’t noticed the other two that had landed, she’d been so focused on Tyrion - all growl.

“Fine,” he said coldly. “If you want to die out here, go ahead. But you’re not going to kill my brother along with you. Sunrise, come help me.” The small dragon was beside him in an instant, growling, smoke coming from its nostrils. Cercei refused to budge. 

“Stay away from him,” she said again, threateningly. She was afraid, he realized. She was terrified. As well she should be. It was her own ineptitude that had landed them all here, that and her unreasonable hatred. It would serve her right to die here. But he tried once again.

“Cercei,” he said gently. “Cercei, there’s nothing out here. If you two stay here, you’ll die. There’s no food, no shelter. And Jamie needs medical attention, so do you. I can send for a cart, and horses. You don’t have to ride a dragon. But you need to come back with me.”

“We will be fine,” she insisted stubbornly. She wouldn’t let him take Jamie away from her. Her mind spun wildly, wondering where they were. It was just she and Jamie, she wouldn’t let anyone separate them. Especially not _him_. “Leave,” she ordered as imperiously as she could. “We don’t need your help, we’ll be fine. Jamie just needs to rest. _Leave!_ ” She screamed.

Tyrion sighed and looked at the small dragon, who had cocked its head to one side and was studying Cercei carefully. Tyrion knew it was measuring angles and distance, and sure enough he suddenly spit out a narrow stream of flame that missed Jamie altogether, hitting Cercei directly in the face. She screamed and fell backwards, beating at her flaming hair and skin. Tyrion grabbed Jamie under his arms and began dragging him towards Midnight who moved forward, his neck laying on the ground. Tyrion gritted his teeth, pulling with all of his might. The muscles in his back and legs screamed and strained, and still he pulled. By the time he got Jamie propped against Midnight and climbed up onto his neck, Sunrise had joined him, pushing his head into the sand beneath Jamie and helping to lift him. Together, with Sunrise pushing and Tyrion pulling, they got him up. Sunrise jumped up onto Midnight’s neck as well, sitting across Jamie to help hold him steady. As Midnight rose carefully into the sky, Tyrion saw a pile of flames near the water, Jewel continuing to blow fire onto it. He wanted to feel regret, but he didn’t. Fire joined them, flying close underneath Midnight, matching her wing movements to his, so if Jamie fell she could catch him. 


	33. Chapter 33

It was almost a week later when Jamie opened his eyes to find Sansa sitting next to him, a sleeping child on her lap, curled around her swollen belly. “Well hello,” she said softly, with a smile. A woman appeared, offering to take the baby, but Sansa shook her head and said something in a language he didn’t understand. “This is Dev,” she told him. “She’s been taking care of you.” The woman approached him, smiling, and offered him a sip of water, which he accepted gratefully. The woman said something to Sansa as she gave him another small sip of water. “Your fever has broken,” Sansa said. “How do you feel?”

“Exhausted,” he croaked, gesturing weakly for more water. Dev offered him the cup again. “Where am I?” he asked after he’d taken a sip.

“Riverside, on Lysos,” Sansa answered.

He blinked a few times, tiredly, looking around. The room was lovely, large and full of light. The walls were a soft golden color, and the furniture was of wood in a pale brown. Sheer cream colored fabric hung over the windows and in front of the open patio doors. Tall, thickly leaved plants stood in the corners. A couch and chair sat before an empty fireplace. It was airy and comfortable and peaceful.

“And where is Cercei?” he asked, although he knew the answer. She would have been next to him, they wouldn’t have been able to keep her away.

Sansa shook her head. “I never saw her,” she said honestly as the child in her lap stirred, opening his eyes and stretching his arms above his head. She smiled down at him. “Hello, love. Look, your Uncle Jamie is awake, too.”

The boy turned his head and Jamie thought he was looking into a mirror. “Oh my,” he whispered, smiling a little in spite of his discomfort.

“Can you say hello?” Sansa prompted.

The boy only stared at him, wide eyed.

“Hello, nephew,” Jamie said, smothering a yawn. The woman Dev reappeared at his side with a mug of something hot, encouraging him to take a sip.

“His name is Ned,” Sansa said. “Eddard Jaymes Lannister.”

Jamie smiled again, struggling to keep his eyes open. “A good name,” he said. The chicken broth was delicious and he was glad the woman was there to keep him from gulping it down immediately. He took sip after slow sip.

Sansa handed the baby to someone outside of Jamie’s line of sight, and said something in that language he couldn’t understand. Then, she struggled out of her chair and came to stand beside him, laying her cool hand across his forehead.

He turned to look from his broth to her face, weakly lifting a hand to rest on her protruding belly. “You look like your mother,” Jamie said exhaustedly. “But where she was merely beautiful, you are stunning.”

Sansa blinked in surprise at the compliment. “Thank you,” she said, smiling. “You need to rest. Dev said she’ll give you more broth when you wake up, we have to go slowly because it’s been so long since you’ve eaten.” He nodded, feeling full already after the broth and water. “Do you need anything else right now?” she asked.

He smiled sadly. He’d known that he was just biding time, that one day Cercei would have to be killed. She wouldn’t rest, she wouldn’t give up, until she saw Tommen returned to the throne. She would either be killed or get them all killed. “Have you heard anything of a second boat?” he asked weakly. “There were two boats.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, but I’ll check,” she promised. “I’ll be back later.”

She touched Tyrion’s shoulder as she walked by, and for the first time Jamie noticed him standing at the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Tired,” Jamie said. His eyelids were already longing to close, but he needed to know. “You killed her, didn’t you?”

Tyrion looked him directly in the eye. “Not personally, no. But you’re correct in your belief that she’s dead.”

He’d already known but he still wasn’t prepared for the pain that sliced through him at the words. He took a few deep breaths and his eyes stung, but no tears fell. Dehydration, a small part of his mind whispered.

“If it’s any consolation, I tried to save you both,” Tyrion continued. “I wasn’t planning to let her die there. I was going to bring you both back here, nurse you back to health and then send you on your way. But we all make choices, and she made hers. She wouldn’t let me save her.”

Jamie nodded, knowing it was true. He wanted to think that she would have been reasonable and let Tyrion help them, but being reasonable wasn’t her strength. She was headstrong and stubborn and more determined than anyone he’d ever met. It was part of why he loved her.

He stayed in bed for almost a week. He was pleased when he woke one day and found Brienne sitting next to him. “How did you end up here?” he asked softly.

“I came with Lady Sansa,” she explained. “There was nothing for me left in the Seven Kingdoms, although both my father and the Queen asked me to stay. But,” she shrugged. “I didn’t see a reason.”

“We’re really on Lysos?” he asked. “I didn’t think it really existed.”

Brienne grinned. “We’re really on Lysos,” she confirmed. “And it’s wonderful. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

But he stayed in bed until he felt well enough to sit up in a chair while Dev and another girl change his sheets, and then let them help him into an adjoining room and put him in a bath. He had to admit, the hot water felt good on his sore muscles. He ached all over. The tub was built into the floor, and warm water ran continuously from a spout on the wall. The side wall overlooked the garden and the river beyond it, and pots of flowering plants were scattered around, along with benches covered in thick padding. The girl washed him, all he had to do was sit on the bench. Then she had him lean back so she could wash his hair, and through unfamiliar words – although he had a feeling it was more High Valyrian than anything else, he just couldn’t remember – and gestures asked if he wanted her to shave him. He agreed, although he left his mustache and beard, similar to the way he’d seen Tyrion wear his. When they she finally dried and dressed him and helped him back to his bed, he fell asleep instantly. It was almost two weeks before he felt well enough to move about without assistance. The girl - Myrra, he discovered - helped him to bathe every few days, and rubbed his back and shoulders every day with warm oil until the knotted and sore muscles relaxed and loosened.

As he sat in the garden one day, watching his nephew play with his nurse, Sansa came out and joined them. “Mama!” Ned called happily.

“Hello, my love,” she smiled. The baby ran towards her, but wriggled out of her arms once she’d kissed him, toddling off to play with his toys again. 

She turned her smile to Jamie. “It’s good to see you up and feeling better.”

He smiled sadly. “It feels good to be out of bed. I haven’t had a headache in a few days, although I’m as weak as a new babe. And Tyrion had my hand fixed, so I’m not quite as handicapped.” He held up his right hand, the golden replacement once again firmly attached.

“I want you to know that I sent Fire to look for the second ship you’d mentioned,” she said, more seriously. “The storm has finally broken up, and she’s searching but so far, she hasn’t found any sign of it.”

Jamie nodded, his heart constricting. “Tommen and Margeary were on a separate boat, with a group of guards and Mace Tyrell,” he said quietly. “Cercei’s face was more recognizable than either of them, along with mine, so I chose to separate us. They left almost two weeks ahead of us, so I’m hoping they missed the storm altogether.”

“Well once you’re ready, we’ll have a boat take you wherever you want to go,” she said reassuringly.

He nodded, looking out over the idyllic view before him – the lush gardens, the baby playing in the warm sunlight, the sparkling river passing lazily in the not so far distance. Although he was still grieving the loss of his family, he realized that for the moment he was content to stay where he was. “Tell me good sister, when is my next niece or nephew due?”

“Nephew,” she said resigned. “I’m certain, it’s another boy. And he should be here in two months or so.”

Jamie smiled. “Perhaps I’ll stay long enough to meet him,” he said.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Sansa said warmly. And so he did. Being with Tyrion was soothing to him, especially when he realized that Tyrion and Sansa genuinely loved each other. The baby was happily spoiled, although his parents were firm. Even the servants were always pleasant. The house was full of laughter, and it was a relief after the last few years of war and killing. Brienne came often to visit him, and he enjoyed her company more than he was ready to admit.

When he was feeling strong again he went with Tyrion into the city for the Elder’s Council meeting. Set alongside the river – the same one that passed through their estate – the city was beautiful, made of a white marble-like material. It followed the twisting river, and even extended up into the mountain, where the waterfall that fed the river fell majestically. They stopped at a waterside restaurant – a café, Tyrion called it – and had lunch. Many people stopped to speak to Tyrion, and although Jamie was still learning the mostly unfamiliar language, based on the smiles and laughter, most people were happy to see him. He even accompanied Tyrion to the other side of the country to assist with settling a land dispute on the back of Midnight. The journey would take weeks on horseback, but only half a day with the dragon. They soared over the land, trees and farms and mountains passing quickly beneath them. And he spent more and more time at Brienne’s large home in the city. She had a good life here, he realized. Although many people were intimidated by her size, her friendly and outgoing nature had won over most of the people she knew. She dressed in wide legged pants and thigh length tunics, and wore a sword most days. She laughed often and was obviously happy. Her joy was as much a balm for his bruised heart as was Tyrion’s home.

A small part of his mind would occasionally remind him that Tyrion was the one who killed their father and Cercei, but he would always push the thought away, refusing to become Cercei who could see no good in him. The Tyrion that Jamie knew was kind and loving, generous to a fault, patient with his son, intelligent and witty, and adored his wife. They’d all done things they regretted, as he reminded himself whenever he saw Sansa and thought of her younger brother. 

“Do you miss home?” he asked Brienne one night as they sat on her wide patio, enjoying wine after another delicious meal. Before them the sun had already set, and the stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky.

Brienne shook her head. “Not really,” she admitted. “I do miss my father, but I don’t miss his expectations for my life. I wish I could send him a letter and let him know that I’m well. But the Seven Kingdoms? No.”

He looked out at the city, and the beautiful sky above, the orange and purple from the setting sun fading into the deep blue of night. “I could be happy here.”

“You could,” she agreed. “If you choose to be.”

He was silent.

“But you won’t choose to be,” she continued. “You’ll leave.”

“I have to find Tommen, and Margeary,” he said finally. “I can’t….. I need to know if he’s still alive, if he’s alright.”

Brienne nodded. She’d known. It didn’t matter what the reason, it was all more important than her. She pushed the thought aside. Jaime Lannister was no more interested in being with her than he’d ever been. She was a familiar face. That’s all.

“But I think,” Jaime said slowly. “That I’ll come back.”

Brienne looked at him. “Oh? What makes you think that?”

He was silent for long minutes. “This is the life I want,” he said finally. “The peace. The calm. The simplicity. The joy and love. Everything and everyone I want is here, except for Tommen.”

“Well then. I hope you do.” But she wouldn’t hold her breath.

“Oh, I will,” he assured her, his eyes still on the beauty of the sky. “My future is here.”

She studied him in the fading light. “How can you be so sure?” she asked.

His eyes slid to hers, and he smiled. She was so comfortable here, dressing and living as she pleased, controlling her own destiny, instead of having other people’s expectations forced on her. Free to be herself, and in doing so, her warmth and kindness had abounded. She was well loved and sought after, and confident because of it. “A man knows,” he said. “My future is right here.”

Brienne blushed and looked away, grateful that in the fading light he wouldn’t see. Damn him. She’d finally gotten over him – or had at least stopped thinking of him constantly – and now here he was in all his golden beauty, invading her world. She told herself again that she would stop seeking him out, and let him heal and leave. Because he would leave, she was sure of it.

“Do you ever want to go back to Westeros?” he asked one afternoon as they had lunch. Sansa was due any day now, and was increasingly irritated and uncomfortable.

“I’ve been back to Westeros,” she said shortly. “To help the Queen reclaim her throne. We could have stayed if we’d wanted, the Queen asked us to.”

“Sansa said once that in Westeros, we would always be our father’s children,” Tyrion added. “She would live her life in the shadow of the belief that Ned Stark was a traitor, and I’d live mine in the shadow of Lord Tywin. Here, we stand on our own, we’re known for who we are. No. I think we’re doing rather well here.”

“What of Winterfell?” he asked her quietly.

“The Bolton’s hold it now,” she said tightly. “But I will leave my children all of this,” she gestured to their surroundings. 

“And as long as you live I wouldn’t inherit Casterly Rock anyway,” Tyrion said practically. “Here, I can leave my children a good name, a beautiful home, riches, and perhaps their mother’s ability to communicate with dragons.”

The conversation made Jamie think. What would he leave his children, he wondered. As of now, he only had one – he hoped – but what legacy would he leave Tommen? He couldn’t give him Casterly Rock anymore and frankly, he didn’t want to give him the Iron Throne. “What would you give him if you could choose?” Tyrion asked when they discussed it one night.

“The same thing you’re trying to give your children, I suppose,” he said. “A good name, a beautiful home. Riches would be nice.”

“Jamie, you’re young still,” Tyrion said. “There’s no reason you can’t marry and have more children. I know they won’t replace the ones you’ve lost, but your life is hardly over at the old age of 37.”

Jamie smiled sadly. “I know,” he said. “But before I can even think of that, I need to find Tommen. I need to get to him and make sure that this quest to reclaim the throne is over. I want him to have a good life, and I’m no longer convinced being king will provide it.”

Tyrion nodded. He’d wondered about that too. Who would advise the boy? Mace Tyrell? Mace was a good man but he wasn’t the intellectual sort. Margeary was power hungry. Without proper guidance, those two could be the end of Tommen.

A few days later, Sansa gave birth to another boy, whom they named Marcel Titus. Jamie smiled a little sadly as he held the baby. He was beautiful, with wisps of red hair and pale blue eyes – although Tyrion told him that babies eye colored changed during their first few months, and he remembered that from his own children as well. He was surprised to find that Sansa didn’t have a wet nurse, and fed the baby herself. But his new nephew just made him long even more for his own son, and miss Cercei. It had only been a few months and the pain was still fresh. He could admit that his feelings for her had begun to wane after he’d spent time with Brienne – which he still couldn’t make sense of, he wasn’t in love with Brienne, he wasn’t even attracted to her although he deeply admired her sense of loyalty and honor – but she was still the only woman he’d ever loved, the only woman he’d ever been with. The thought of being with someone else was still too foreign for him to even consider. But he could admit that he wanted more children, children he could actually be a father to.

Almost a year to the day he’d arrived, Jamie boarded a ship to take him to Lys. If Tommen were there, he would stay. If not, he would return. It was his hope that he could find Tommen and bring him back to Riverside, and they could live a quiet and simple life. “Good luck with that,” Tyrion said wryly. “Margeary isn’t letting that possibility of a crown go so easily, and they’re legally wed. If he comes, she comes. And frankly, I don’t want Margeary here, or her father. And I don’t know that Tommen hasn’t been completely poisoned against me. I don’t know that here is the best place for him.” He’d loved having Jamie with him and wanted him to stay, but Tommen was more Cercei’s child than Jamie’s, and he didn’t really want him in his home.

Sansa hugged him tightly. “Be safe,” she said. She also couldn’t help but hope that if Jamie returned, it would be alone. She didn’t want Tommen and Margeary in her home, she wanted to leave Westeros behind completely. Ned hugged him as well, pouting that he was leaving. 

Jamie had doubts about Tommen and Margeary as well, but he had to try. And so he hugged them all tightly, and boarded the ship for the long journey.


	34. Chapter 34

Although he tried his hand at the fishing they had to do to survive the trip, Jamie spent most of the voyage reading – Tyrion had sent him with a small library – and thinking. Thinking about Cercei, and where and how it had all gone wrong. There were a million small moments he could point to and say, “There. That’s where it all went bad.” But while reflection may have been good for his soul, it did little to soothe his heart. He missed her. He’d been with her literally all of his life, and without Tyrion and Sansa and the children to distract him all he could think about was Cercei. But as they finally sighted land, he forced himself to put thoughts of her aside and focus on Tommen. He’d risked his life to get his son to safety. He only hoped he’d made the right choice.

He spoke with the captain before he left, assuring him that he would be in touch within 24 hours. But the captain said to take his time, he and his crew were looking forward to seeing Lys, most of them had never been there. “If the Elder and Mistress of the Dragons say we are to wait for you, then we’ll wait,” he said firmly. “Return when you can.”

After asking a few people, he made his way to the house they were supposed to meet at. It was an imposing structure, miles from the docks, he had to hire a cart to take him. He mentally thanked Tyrion for making sure he had some currency with him. 

The house looked calm and peaceful in the bright sunlight, a cool, white oasis. His stomach was clenched tight as he knocked on the door, and asked for the Lord Moraith. He waited nervously in the cool hall, his heart pounding.

“I would know you anywhere,” a warm voice said. The man was in his late 50’s, tall and broad shouldered, bald, and wearing a wide smile. “You look like your mother.”

“Uncle Tytos, hello,” Jamie said with a smile, extending his left hand. His uncle ignored it and wrapped him in a hug that Jamie retuned. “You look like Father.”

“Yes, your nephew said the same thing,” he laughed, and Jamie almost sagged in relief.

“He’s here then,” he said. “Tommen? And Margeary?”

“Well, I’m here,” a sour voice said from the hall. He turned to see Margeary coming towards them, a baby on her hip. At the sight of the baby, Jamie’s face lit up, his smile widening. He moved to her and she passed the baby to him.

“Hello there,” Jamie said, as the baby grabbed his nose, cooing. “And what’s your name?”

“Tommen, of course,” Margeary said. “Second of his name.”

“And where is the first of his name?” Jamie asked, kissing the top of the babe’s head, his eyes searching the hall beyond her.

“Dead,” Margeary said flatly. Seeing Jamie’s stricken expression, his uncle rushed to explain.

“He did survive the crossing, although his good father and most of his guards did not, they encountered a terrible storm,” Tytos said. “It was once he was here that he became ill. A fever while Her Grace was still carrying the babe. He died before the child was born.”

Jamie blinked rapidly to control his tears. It was all over then. Cercei and all of her children were gone. He leaned his head down towards the child, who grinned at him suddenly. Jamie smiled sadly.

“Cercei is not with you,” Margeary said slowly. “Or your guard.”

“All dead,” Jamie said, clearing his throat. “We encountered the same storm as you, but we got the full brunt of it. We were adrift for weeks before we found land. Cercei died from…..her injuries. I almost did. That’s why I’m so late in arriving.”

Margeary sighed. “So what do we do now?” she asked.

“Move into the library,” Lord Tytos said firmly. Gesturing to a servant, he ordered wine and food brought to them, and had another take the baby to his nurse. Jamie didn’t want to let him go, but realized that he needed to compose himself.

Jamie collapsed into a chair, his tears running unchecked down his face. His uncle handed him a cloth to wipe his face and he took it with mumbled thanks. Sweet Tommen, beautiful Myrcella, arrogant Joffery….all of his children were dead. And Cercei. Beautiful, proud, demanding, Cercei. His entire family was dead.

No. Not all of them. And there was a ship waiting to take him back to Riverside. Jamie knew that he would be on it. He would take a week or two to ensure that Margeary and the babe were cared for. But he was going back to Riverside, back to the waterfall and the river, to the peaceful estate and beautiful white city, to Tyrion and Sansa and their children. Back to Brienne.

“At least you’re here, and can train him,” Margeary said, obviously trying to be practical. “I suppose we can find a septa and maester to help as well. We want to make sure he knows the ways of Westeros.”

Jamie looked up, finally wiping his face. “You can’t be thinking of raising that child to try to take the throne?” he asked in amazement.

“Of course I am!” Margeary snapped. “He’s the rightful king!”

“And how do you plan to defeat the dragons?” Jamie asked. “Daenerys has two, and I know for fact that one of them was about to lay. So soon, there’ll be more. How do you plan to teach him to defeat dragonfire?”

“You can’t possibly mean to have my son give up his right to the throne?” Margeary asked in amazement.

“Your son has no right to the throne,” Jamie said, his tears falling again. “Just as mine didn’t. But Cercei told everyone they were Robert’s children, and now all three of them are dead because of it. No. This is over. Tommen was a Lannister and only a Lannister. There was no Baratheon blood in him. Which means your child has no right to the Iron Throne.”

They stared at him mutely, in confusion, for long moments. “Jamie,” his uncle said slowly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I fathered Cercei’s children, all three of them.” He tried to make his voice firm but it broke on her name. 

Margeary’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“The rumors are true,” he continued. “After Robert died, Cercei had all of his children – his bastards - killed, all 16 of them. Every one of them was black haired. It’s what Jon Arryn discovered, and why she had him killed. It’s what Ned Stark discovered, and why she branded him a traitor so that no one would believe a word he said. All of her children were blonde and green eyed, just like their parents. And I’m rather certain that Daenerys knows, Tyrion most likely told her. If you send your child back to Westeros, make no mistake, he will die. And even if he does somehow manage to defeat the dragons and the queen, he still has no right to rule.”

Margeary dropped slowly into a chair, her mouth still hanging open. Tytos looked at him with amazement, and pity.

“And so what am I supposed to do now?” Margeary asked, finally.

“Live,” he answered heavily. “As best you can.”

“Live how?” she snapped. “I am a noble woman, a gentle woman. I have no skills save running a household. How am I supposed to support myself and _your_ grandchild?”

“My lady,” Lord Tytos said calmly. “There is still Lord Garth’s offer to consider.”

“He will not accept my child,” she snapped. “He wants me, but not my babe.”

“Who is Lord Garth?” Jamie asked.

“A local merchant, very, very wealthy,” his uncle answered. “He is originally from the Summer Isle’s. He is willing to overlook the fact that Lady Margeary has been married before, since her husband died. But he will not accept another man’s child in his household.”

“He says he will wrap me in silks and drown me in jewels,” Margeary said acerbically. “I will live a life of comfort and ease.”

Her comment about jewels made Jamie think of the trunk Sansa and Tyrion had pressed on him when he left. It would surely be enough to support Margeary and Tommen in comfort. But if he left, would she raise the babe to believe he was the rightful king of Westeros?

They left the library with nothing decided. He spent the day playing with the babe, crying silently. His uncle found him late that evening, young Tommen asleep in his arms, sitting on the balcony, staring at the stars thoughtfully.

Tytos sat heavily next to his nephew. When he’d decided not to return to Westeros, even after Tywin demanded that he come home and resume his familial obligations, he’d known that his older brother would wipe him from the family history. He hadn’t been surprised to learn that his niece and nephews – as well as everyone else – had long assumed him to be dead. Fortunately, his youngest nephew Tyrion had discovered one of the letters that he’d sent to Tywin and had replied, starting a years long correspondence. He’d been surprised to have his great nephew and his wife appear on his doorstep but had eagerly taken them in. And to see Jamie, Tywin’s oldest son, was wonderful. But what he’d said weighed on him.

“Is it true?” he asked quietly. “What you said to Margeary earlier?”

Jamie was quiet for a long moment. “Yes,” he said finally.

“Did your father know?” Tytos couldn’t imagine Tywin allowing such behavior from his children.

“He was told,” Jamie said quietly. “But I doubt he believed it.”

Tytos nodded. It would be like Tywin to deny the existence of something so disturbing, especially within his own family. “So what are you thinking you’ll do?”

“I’ll return to Lysos, to Tyrion and his family,” Jamie said instantly. “But the child….” He looked down at the babe sleeping peacefully in his arms. “I can’t have her raising this child to believe he has any right to the throne.”

“She’s ambitious,” Tytos said. “Far more than your son was.”

Jamie nodded. “Cercei hated her for that very reason. Of course, Cercei was the same. She had more ambition that Tyrion and I combined. But if Margeary convinces this boy that he’s the rightful king, and that he should try to reclaim the throne….he’ll die. And for no reason. He can’t win against dragons.”

“Take them back to your brother with you,” Tytos said practically. “Where did you say he is? Lysos?”

Jamie nodded. “It’s a beautiful place,” he said wistfully. “But Tyrion and Sansa, his wife, don’t want Margeary there. And, I can’t believe that she would be happy, it’s a very simple life.”

“I’ve heard whispers of Lysos,” Tytos said musingly. “Is it true there are dragons there?”

Jamie nodded. “About twenty five. I’m told there used to be many more, but they actually are dying out for some reason. But there are at least seventeen eggs that I know of, so there’s hope for them yet. And most people don’t know, but we found five dragon eggs in Kings Landing before we left. Those in addition to the one Viscerion was about to lay.”

“How did they end up in Lysos?”

“Apparently when they were with Queen Danerys in Meereen, one of the dragons ran away with Sansa on her back. She was injured and feverish – the dragon – and had lost her sense of direction. She flew aimlessly for weeks and finally landed on Lysos. Sansa was almost dead of starvation by then but the locals nursed her back to health. She stayed for almost a year, then went back to Meereen to try to convince Tyrion to join her there. He agreed, and they’ve been there since. He sent a letter for you, it’s in my bag.”

Tytos nodded. “They’re doing well then?”

“Yes, very. They’ve two sons now, and Sansa is longing for a daughter. Tyrion has promised her he won’t stop trying until she has one,” Jamie grinned, and his uncle laughed.

“I’d hoped to meet your brother one day. He seems a remarkable man. But your son said that Tyrion is the one who killed Tywin?” Tytos had been saddened to hear of his brother’s death, and was troubled by the dynamic of his brother’s family, but not surprised. Tywin had been a hard man. It was the reason he’d refused to return and live under his rule.

Jamie shrugged. “I led the investigation into father’s death myself and although Cercei was insistent that it was Tyrion there was no evidence to support the accusation. I have no idea who killed father. But after everything father did to Tyrion, I would not be surprised if it were true. Tyrion is a Lannister, and as aunt Genna likes to point out, much more Lord Tywin’s son that I am. Father sentenced him to death, even though he knew Tyrion didn’t kill Joffery. It was a convenient way to be rid of him,” Jamie said bitterly.

Tytos face was grim. “Tywin had no tolerance for many things,” he said heavily. “And that Johanna died birthing him was unforgivable in Tywin’s sight.”

“And to be a dwarf, besides,” Jamie added.

Tytos nodded. “He was a hard man,” he sighed.

Jamie sat silently for a moment, thinking about that. His father _had_ been a hard man, and he’d taught he and Cercei that they had to be hard as well. Squash any resistance, put down any rebellion, obedience at all costs. He wouldn’t be that way with his children. He wanted to be a father like Tyrion, loving and involved and concerned. Firm, but caring. “Do you have any children, uncle?” he asked.

Tytos shook his head. “I married years ago, but she died of a wasting sickness before we had any. I’ve never managed to find another woman who interested me enough to settle down.” He smiled wryly. “I never really thought much about it, but now I’m realizing I’ve no heir.”

“You may not have an heir, but you do have a namesake,” Jamie said with a smile. “Tyrion named his youngest son for you, Titus. He said that he hopes the boy will have your spirit of adventure and willingness to live life on his own terms.”

Tytos blinked in surprise. “Did he, now,” he said with a slow smile.

Jamie nodded. “And their oldest is definitely a Lannister, the first time I saw him I thought I was looking into a mirror. He looks more like me than either of my boys did.” It was a relief to be able to acknowledge his children, even though it still brought an ache to his chest. “I almost thought I was looking at a childhood portrait of myself. Although Sansa says that Tyrion and I look alike, but most people don’t see it because of his deformity. She says our eyes are the same shape, and our ears, even our nose and chin. She says that if he hadn’t been born a dwarf he and I would have looked more like twins that Cercei and I.”

Tytos looked at him thoughtfully. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “About your sister.”

“Thank you. I’m learning to live with it. Without her.” He looked down at the sleeping baby, thinking how she would have hated being a grandmother. The thought brought a smile to his lips.

In the end he stayed for three weeks. He enjoyed spending time with his uncle, and his grandson. Margeary was sullen, and he could understand why. She’d been a queen – three times - and now she had nothing except a child to care for. He gave her some of the jewels and gave more to his uncle, who sold them and told Jamie not to worry about them, as long as he had a home, they would. But after reading Tyrion’s letter about Casterly Rock, he began to debate returning to Westeros and taking over the family home. 

“Margeary could stay here,” he told Jamie. “She’s a smart girl, I’m sure she could take over my business.”

But Margeary balked at the suggestion. “You want me to run a _shop_?” she said scornfully.

“Multiple shops, actually. And you don’t have many other options,” Tytos said sharply. “Unless you plan to marry Lord Garth.”

Margeary looked uncertain at the suggestion, and her eyes filled with tears. Jamie felt for her, but she had to make a choice. “Uncle, what if you sold your business here? Could that money go to support this house?”

Tytos nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose I could sell them. But money doesn’t last indefinitely. At some point she’s going to have to earn more. Keeping the shops would be the best plan, to ensure that there would always be a steady stream of income. But someone has to oversee them.”

Margeary stared out of the window, a single tear falling down her cheek, her lips pressed tightly together. “You could marry Lord Garth,” Jamie said. “And live a life of comfort and ease.” Margeary was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “And I’ll keep Tommen with me.” She looked up at him in surprise.

“What?” she said, stunned.

“I’ll keep Tommen,” he said. “That way you’ll know he’ll be well cared for and loved. And you won’t have to worry about how either of you will survive.”

“But….what will you do?” she asked uncertainly. “Will you oversee the shops?”

“No, I’m going back to Lysos. It’s an option, Margeary,” he said firmly as she began to protest. “One you should consider.”

“You should also consider that I’m going to Westeros, and can take the boy with me,” Tytos said. “I can tell everyone that he’s my son, his mother died birthing him. He’ll be my heir, and so future Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. It would keep me from having to rush to find a bride,” he said wryly. “And I can see about finding your brothers, perhaps your grandmother, so they’ll know you’re well and that the child is actually yours.”

She stood, fury drying her tears. “I won’t let either of you take my son from me,” she said angrily.

“Options, Margeary,” Jamie said again. “Consider your options. What will you do if you stay here? If you’re not going to support yourself then someone else has to. I can only do so much, Uncle Tytos can only do so much. At some point, you’re going to have to do something yourself.”

“Right now, you’re young and very beautiful,” Tytos added. “Trust me, beauty fades. If you wait until the boy is older you may not find a husband, and with me in Westeros and Jamie in Lysos, what will you do then? Now you have a very rich suitor, waiting to shower you in jewels and silks.”

“I know it feels too soon,” Jamie said softly. “I know it feels like we’re rushing you. But you don’t have the luxury of time. You have to make a decision. If you’re truly opposed to sending the babe with one of us, then you need to spend the next few years learning how to run uncle’s business. You’re extremely intelligent, and I have no doubt that you can master it.”

Margeary looked from one to the other. “I don’t understand why we can’t wait a bit before we make this decision,” she said hotly. “Why do I have to do it right now?”

“Because the ship that brought me here is ready to leave,” Jamie said. “And I need to be on it. I don’t know how to get to Lysos from here, neither do most of the captains in this region. So if I don’t go soon I’ll be stuck here.”

“And according to Tyrion, I need to make a decision about Casterly Rock,” Tytos said. “Apparently, he’s asked Queen Daenerys to hold it for twenty five years, but he doesn’t think she’ll keep it that long. No matter what you decide, I’m going to Westeros in a month or two to claim Casterly Rock, and I’ll be gone a few months, half a year at most. When I return I’ll be preparing to return to Westeros permanently.”

Margery stared at them in mute fury, then turned and stood next to the window, staring unseeingly at the garden. She would not allow them to take her son from her, or his throne. She wouldn’t allow him to become the Targaryen Beggar King that she’d been told about, the brother of the girl Queen of Meereen, who’d wandered Essos, arrogantly begging for an army to restore him to his throne. But she also wouldn’t let her son become a _shop keeper._ He was nobility, not a merchant. He was a king. She just needed to support them for a few years, until he was old enough to take the throne. Surely during that time she would find support for him, there were many who supported the Lannisters and the Tyrells. Theirs were old and well respected families. “I’ll learn to run the shops,” she said steadily. It wouldn’t hurt, and it would ensure a roof over their heads and clothes on their backs. It wasn’t the ideal solution, but it was the best she had. She could find a maester and septa, and even a few sell swords if she needed to, to teach him to use weapons. But she wouldn’t let them take his throne. She _wouldn’t_.

“Good,” Jaime said. “That’s taken care of, then.” But he wondered. She’d given in a bit easier than he’d thought. He’d expected to have to fight tooth and nail to have her eventually give one of them the boy and marry Lord Garth.

Tytos nodded slowly. “I have plans for tomorrow, but the day after I’ll take you with me to meet Myrth. He’s the manager of the largest shop, in the city center. We’ll have you start shadowing him while I’m in King’s Landing.”

Margeary nodded once, then swept regally from the room.

Jamie and Tytos looked at each other in silence, each realizing that the other didn’t believe her as well. “We’re going to have to do something,” Tytos sighed.

“Something like what?” Jamie asked quietly.

Tytos looked towards the doors, then moved to go close them. “You’ll take the boy back with you,” he said, returning to stand at Jamie’s side. “If I take him she’ll follow us and get us all killed. You take him with you, I’ll go to Westeros. She’ll marry Lord Garth.”

Jamie nodded slowly. It was the best plan, and not just because he desperately wanted the babe. He was more certain than ever that if he left Tommen here, she would try to have him take back the Iron Throne. “How would we get him away from her long enough to leave?”

Tytos smiled suddenly. “Leave that to me,” he said. “When do you want to leave?”

“Within a few days,” Jamie said. “No more than four.”

Tytos nodded. “Go and tell your captain that you’ll be ready to sail on the evening tide in four days. I’ll arrange the rest.”

Three days later, Margeary was struck ill with a stomach ailment. She was feverish and bedridden all day, as Tytos and Jamie had Tommen and his young nurse pack and prepare to leave. He wanted to go say goodbye, but his uncle stopped him. “Can’t take a chance that you’ll become ill as well,” he grinned. They left for the ship as the sun began its descent and soon were settled on board the comfortable ship, ready for the long voyage.

“Take care of yourself, nephew,” Tytos said, hugging him tightly. “And your brother. Perhaps one day I’ll make my way to Lysos, if I can find someone who even believes it exists.”

“Thank you for everything, uncle. I’m sorry that I’m leaving you to deal with Margeary all alone.”

Tytos waved his words away. “She’ll be bedridden for another week, at least. By the time she comes back to herself enough to ask about the boy, you’ll be long gone. She can go to Lord Garth or to the streets, the choice will be hers.”

Jamie smiled sadly. “Please be kind, Uncle. She didn’t ask for these circumstances to occur. She was raised to be a gentle woman, and she’s been a queen in one form or another for most of the last six years.”

“She’s too intelligent for me to have much sympathy,” Tytos said seriously. “If she were some dimwit, perhaps. But she knows that her circumstances have changed and she has to change with them.”

The voyage back was pleasant, with beautiful clear skies and soft breezes. Three days before they arrived Fire glided over them and Jamie called out to her, waving. She circled over them twice before heading back towards land. The next morning Midnight skimmed the waves next to them, and one of Tyrion’s servants jumped from his neck with a bag of fresh meat and vegetables, and sweet cakes wrapped in soft cloth.

Tyrion himself met them at the dock, hugging Jamie tightly when he knelt down next to him. The nurse followed behind him, wide eyed, a subdued Tommen in her arms. The babe looked curiously around, a finger in his mouth.

“And whom have we here?” Tyrion asked curiously.

“Tommen, second of his name,” Jamie said, taking the babe. He grinned, revealing two teeth in his upper gums. “His father is dead, and his mother was…..forced to see that it would be best for everyone if the boy came with me.”

Tyrion nodded. “I’m sorry about Tommen,” he said, leading them to the large carriage that stood waiting. “But I’m glad you’re back. And I don’t suppose we’ll even notice another babe in the house,” he said with a grin.

Sansa and Ned welcomed him warmly, and Titus grinned happily, although Jamie knew the boy didn’t remember him. Tommen and Titus were only a few days apart in age, and seemed to get along well. And the two nurses

Dinner was loud and laughter filled, on the back porch. Brienne was there, and Tommen took to her immediately. As the nurses took the children away, and the adults rested on the back porch, Jamie smiled, relaxed and finally content. Here was his future, and he was ready for it.


End file.
